


Castiel and Crowley TNM Episode 10: ....Until It's Over

by WatchingOne



Series: Castiel and Crowley: The Next Missions [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchingOne/pseuds/WatchingOne
Summary: The 'Season Finale' of Castiel and Crowley Season 1! Can Castiel, Crowley and their assembled team stop the Angel and the Demon from taking over Heaven and Hell? Or is there one final, devastating twist left for our heroic C-Squared? (you just know that there is, right?) Hang on, dear viewers, the End is here....





	1. Ready....

# Ready....

“ _Is everybody in? Is everybody in?_

_Is...._

_everybody...._

_in....?_

… _.The ceremony is about to begin.....”_ _  
\- Jim Morrison, An American Prayer_

 

Rowena's eyes opened slowly, painfully. They were crusted with sleep, dry and dirty, difficult to open. She let out a low moan as she moved her hand in the soil beneath her. She made a fist and pulled out a few blades of grass, staring at it in the dim nighttime light. She looked up - noticing that she was somewhere outside - to the sky.

Clouds blotted out the stars and the moon was a half-shaped, orangeish thing, pale and dull in the dark light. She sniffed the air. The smell of flowers and decay filled her nostrils, heavy, stinking, and she coughed in revulsion.

Rowena pulled her legs under her, the earth damp beneath her dress and stood up, her legs weak. She squinted in the darkness, trying to make out her surroundings.

Gravestones.

She sniffed in defiance. A graveyard. If this was supposed to un-nerve her, then they were very mistaken.

She went cold then as she remembered exactly whom she was dealing with.

Her eyes widened and her breath came rapidly, forming small clouds in the cold night air as the memory of recent events came flooding back to her waking mind.

She began to scamper through the gravemarkers, careful over the grassy terrain, heading to what looked like a fence.

_I have to get out of here_ ....

She stopped short. Seven dark shapes had manifested themselves directly in her path. They had their heads down, staring at he ground, not looking at her....not moving.

She turned and ran in the other direction, breath steaming in the air, not daring to look back....

The figures appeared directly in front of her again.

Rowena slowed and stopped. She regarded the figures and then crossed her arms.

“Well, lambs, out with it, then,” she said, putting on her best air of authority. To her credit, her voice did not break. She knew exactly who these seven beings were, and who they worked for.

They raised their heads as one, eyes flickering in alternating blue and red soft light in the darkness, and, simultaneously, all of them grinned widely at her, teeth clenched together in a gruesome parody of a smile.

Despite herself, Rowena visibly shuddered.

“What....what do you want?” she croaked out, this time her voice betraying her fear.

The shadowed figures raised their arms together, and pointed towards the center of the cemetery, their heads turning to the indicated direction. Rowena flicked her eyes in that direction.

There was a swirling darkness there, shapes moving and roiling within.

“Well, I'm certainly not going in  _there_ ....!” she protested.

The figures did not respond. Rowena looked over shoulder, calculating the distance to the nearest exit, then sighed.

She knew they would never let her go.

“Well, honestly, you could have just carried me there,” she sighed. “No need to get all dramatic.”

One of the figures turned her head slowly towards her, the grin still evident on her face which was ghostly, featureless in the cover of darkness.

“We'd prefer it if you went willingly,” she said, her voice deep and surprisingly gentle. It did nothing to calm Rowena's nerves. “It would be a shame to have to damage you before you're finished,” the being continued.

Rowena huffed, narrowing her eyes at the cemetery's center.

“Fine then. Not like I truly have any choice in the matter.”

The dark figure stared back, unblinking.

Rowena turned apprehensively away from that gaze and took hesitant steps towards the swirling dark. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that what waited for her there was infinitely worse than these newly forged Arch-Angels, but they  _needed_ her for something....somethign that she might be able to bargain with, that much was clear, otherwise she'd have been dead already.

_Actually, that might be the easier path_ , she thought sarcastically.

The air around her swirled and seemed to literally thicken around her, cloying and close like smoke, but not choking away her breath. Instead, she felt an overwhelming sensation of claustrophobia, like the world itself was pressing in around her.

She looked over her shoulder, having second thoughts.

The seven figures were following almost directly behind her, watching her like a cat watches a bird in an open field. Rowena swallowed hard and turned back to the center.

She saw a shape in the swirling mist, a podium or shelf set up in the middle of the grounds, and another, larger shape behind it. She walked closer, and the forms began to resolve themselves.

There was a stone pedestal, on which sat a large, leather bound book and a large, burning candle to read it by. Rowena recognized the book instantly and twisted up the corner of her mouth. At least she knew what they needed her for. It lay open to a page near the back. A stool had been set up beside the podium, and a small high writing desk with pen and paper for notation, all ready to go.

Behind this arrangement and about twenty feet off was an eight-foot tall inverted cross, shining and metallic in the night. Rowena squinted at it and shivered, noticing that there was a large shape twisting and working itself around it – a serpent with dull green scales, it's tongue flicking in and out, tasting the dank, funereal air. She looked past the gruesome totem, and seeing nothing else, turned her attention back to the Book of the Damned.

She leaned over the pages and began to examine the spell inside.

As she read, the night air seemed to still itself; moving slower and slower, growing colder and damper. Her wry smile began to fade as well, with every sentence that she read.

“Th....this?” she stammered, stepping back. “You want me to cast  _this_ spell?” She spun on the seven Heralds standing silently behind her and shook her head. “Look, I, of all people, have no problem whatsoever with you lads taking over Heaven and Hell,  _believe_ me. I know no one deserves it more than you do. Do ye get it? I'm on your side!” she pleaded, placing a hand over her heart. “But you do realize what this spell would do if I cast it? What it would unleash on this world? Even you two can't handle that kind of power....”

Rowena winced as a jet of bright orange flame ignited behind the inverted cross, lighting up the darkness in painful rcontrast. Shielding her eyes and squinting, she turned her head slowly back to the symbol of the Heralds.

Two twin, mirrored forms of fire ran up to the sides of the cross, and their tips formed into heads , hovering, facing each other. Rowena watched in morbid fascination as the flames began to resolve themselves into faces, which turned towards her, their fire-wreathed eyes glaring at her, through her....

“Oh, Witch,” a voice spoken in tandem came out of the flames and darkness itself. “We have been  _handling_ this power since this all began. Read the spell. Cast it. Or believe us, you will learn  _exactly what it means to become our enemy_ .”

The flames began to fold in upon themselves, then vanished, plunging them all back into the cool dark night. Rowena blinked and swallowed over the huge lump that had formed in her throat.

She looked back at the book, tears running down her face. She sniffed and ran a shaky hand under her nose.

“Right then....” she whispered chokingly. “I suppose that I'd better get started.”

 

***

 

“Father....forgive me for asking....or don't; you are, after all, the final judge on pretty much....everything.....” Gabriel said slowly, wide-eyed, “But... _WHERE IN THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN ALL THIS TIME_!” he roared, his arms flying over his head.

Chuck lowered his head and smiled. “Yeah....sorry Gabriel....I really, really am....”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, staring at him. “Wait, I know that form, don't I? You're that writer guy....Chuck or something, right?” He snapped his mouth shut. “How is it that I can suddenly recognize you now?”

Chuck raised his eyes at Gabriel and shrugged.

“Yeah....yeah, right....” Gabriel muttered. “You can just turn it on and off again, anytime you want, can't you?”

Chuck gave him a wink, pointing at him.

“Wait, who is he again...?” Jesse drawled, confused. “He's your Dad?” He scrunched up his forehead. “How is that, you two are like the same age, far as I can tell.”

Gabriel looked at Jesse then back a Chuck, jerking a thumb at him. “And I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that you aren't letting him in on your little secret.”

Chuck shook his head. “No, actually. That wasn't me.” He frowned. “Your brothers drained him of all power. No longer is he not a cambrion anymore, but he seems to have a serious gap in his memory and perception to literally anything supernatural.” He snapped his fingers, and Jesse closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair, snoring peacefully. “He doesn't need to hear this, either,” Chuck muttered.

Gabriel considered Jesse for a moment. “Huh,” he said dismissively. “Will he get it back?”

Chuck shrugged. “Beats me.”

Gabriel's eyes widened. “'Beats' you? 'Beats' _you_? How exactly, is that even possible? Don't you, by definition, know everything?”

Chuck levelled his eyes on the Archangel, his face turning serious. “I am guessing that by now you've discovered with whom we're dealing with, right?”

Gabriel leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, letting out a low whistle. “Oh yeah I did. Never thought I'd live to see that.”

Chuck nodded. “Well, they have tapped into the other side, the Darkness, the Old Ones, whatever you want to name it. They've been using that power, Gabriel. And I....I can't counter that. You know that.”

Gabriel leaned forward and nodded slowly to himself. “Yeah....something about balance, right? Always has to be a balance....”

“Exactly, Chuck replied, nodding. “Or everything annihilates itself. And it would very likely take me with it. Look, I know you don't remember this, but I just spent a long, long time dealing with resolving a breach where the Darkness escaped. I just can't deal with that again. I'm still recovering from that and as such am literally not strong enough to do so.”

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up. “A breach? Reaaaaaaaaaally? What came through?”

“Showed up as my sister,” Chuck mumbled. He looked up, noting the look of confusion on Gabriel's face before waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Don't ask. Seriously. Don't ask.”

Gabriel blew out a breath and nodded. “You got it pop. So - what are we gonna do we do about Heckle and Jeckle out there?”

“Do?” Chuck replied, frowning. “We're not going to 'do' anything about them.” He shook his head. “No one can even know I'm even here.”

“Um, excuse me, Dad?” Gabriel answered, shocked. “But, you can't exactly stay on the bench on this one. If there was ever a time for divine intervention, it's now....”

Chuck sighed. “I just told you, Gabriel. They've accessed and are using power from the other side. If I interfere with that....”

“Oh. Right. Pfffewwwww.” Gabriel said reflectively, making a gesture of an explosion with his hands.

Chuck nodded. “Exactly. Which is why I have to erase your memory of all this once we're through talking.”

“Yeah...wait, _what_?” Gabriel stammered. “Wh....why do you have to do that?”

“Because no one can know I'm here,” Chuck answered, shrugging. “But I want to help out as much as I can, so I'm staying close. As close as I can without it getting too dangerous, anyway. They've caught me once already, but luckily, didn't use any dark energy on me – didn't see me as a threat.”

“Then why show yourself to me at all?”

“Well, feedback mostly,” Chuck answered. “And....well, I did miss you....”

“You....you missed me?” Gabriel answered, flabbergasted. He barked out a laugh. “You could have showed up at any time...”

“No, Gabriel...no I couldn't,” Chuck barked in reply, waving his hands. “You split yourself into so many different parts, it was never really you.”

Gabriel stayed silent, then nodded, dropping his head. “And now it is....”

Chuck nodded. “And now it is.”

Gabriel let out a deep breath and looked up, leaning forward in his chair, hands clasped in front of him. “I'm the last one. You know that. They kill me, and the game's over.”

“We're a long way from that, son. Besides, I said I'm helping, right?”

Gabriel nodded.

“I got people looking out for you Gabriel. Trust me on this.”

“Are you...are you going to make me forget now?” Gabriel asked hoarsely.

Chuck nodded at him, his eyes moist. “Until next time, son.”

Gabriel smiled grimly. “I really hope that there is a 'next time', Dad.”

Chuck snapped his fingers just as the door to the little office chamber burst open. Crowley, Castiel, Sam, Dean, Charlie, Garth and all of the ex-Heralds came storming into the room.

“Gabriel!”

“Is he OK?!”

“Chuck! Is Gabriel OK?”

“Please tell me they haven't got to him....”

“He's awake!”

“Did anyone try to attack....?”

“Gabriel, are you all right?!”

The voices sought to drown each other out in a cacophony of shouts. Eventually, it became clear to everyone that Gabriel was OK, and everyone began to calm down.

“So, priority one, gents and damen,” Crowley grunted, pointing at Gabriel. “He's the key to all of this. We keep him safe and sound.”

“Got a place in mind?” Dean asked.

“Oh yeah,” Crowley answered, looking up at Castiel.

“Where?”

“Where Angels fear to tread m'boy. Where angels fear to tread.”

 


	2. ....Set....Gone

# ….Set....Gone

“Crowley?”

“Yes, Castiel?”

“I'm fairly certain that I'm not afraid to 'tread' here.”

“Castiel?”

“Yes?”

“That was just an  expression ,” Crowley sighed, holding open the door. “ The rest of it goes: 'Fools rush in'....'and  believe me, only a fool would rush into this place.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and walked inside. Crowley looked up with exasperation and walked in behind him, ushering in Gabriel, Sam and Dean along with him.

“Um, Crowley, how do you expect to keep Gabriel safe here?” Sam asked, frowning at the glistening floor and looking for a light switch.

“One, because I own it, so therefore can keep an eye on it,” Crowley answered, walking behind a large sales counter and flicking on a bank of lights. Large fluorescents and spotlights came on, making everyone blink against the sudden brightness.....

….illuminating several squat, compact model cars.

“And two, no one, and I mean  _no one_ is going to look for anyone is a used Yugo dealership.”

“Crowley....why do you have a used Yugo dealership?” Dean asked, frowning in distaste at a dark green painted Yugo GV. “This....” he shook his head and made a face. “I....I just can't....” He took a step back and turned away from the little car. “I think I'm gonna be a little sick....”

Crowley held out his palm and raised his eyebrows, silently emphasizing his point.

“I'll leave a full contingent of guards on the perimeter. Castiel has invited some soldier Angels to guard the interior, the entire area is warded to appear as a 'Dead-Zone' to anyone scanning it with spellcraft....not that anyone would....”

“And what happens if a customer comes in?” Castiel asked, rapping gently on the hood of a purple and brown model. The bumper promptly fell off with a clatter on the floor and broke in two.

“Cas.... _please_ ....” Dean sighed. “Allright, Crowley, I have to admit; it's a good enough place to make something disappear....like  forever. ”

“Thanks. I like to think ahead,” Crowley responded. With that he reached behind the sales counter and pulled out several glasses and a bottle of Craig whiskey, brushed the dust off of the 'Aged 30 Years” label, and popped the cork with one hand. “Anyone joining me?”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance and Dean shrugged, walking over to the countertop. Crowley winked and poured them both a healthy shot.

“To the end of the world.....” Crowley rumbled.

Dean huffed, clicked against Crowley's glass and downed his drink, wincing. “Pal, if we drank to that every time that it came around, I wouldn't have a liver left.”

Crowley's mouth twisted into a half smile.

“No seriously, we need a plan of action here, fellas,” Sam said, sitting down at a bar-like stool next to the counter. “Gabriel, you say you can't remember what happened to you? Up to what point?”

Gabriel sighed and crossed his arms, looking up in exasperation at the ceiling. “Well, let's see....I was all safe and sound and hiding in my club....”

“The strip club....what was it called again?” Dean interjected.

“Sugar Daddies,” Castiel muttered. When several head turned to him with raised eyebrows at once, he fidgeted. “What? I....liked the music....” He went back to examining the dirt-brown Yugo he was leaning against.

Dean raised his eyebrows further. “Yeah....well....whatever. Go on?”

Gabriel gave Dean a tight smile. “Oh, may I?” He huffed out a breath. “Well, then you yahoos show up looking for me and the Register of Heaven. We used a little spell to summon up Abel....who you guys end up killing.... _again_. Thanks for that, B.T.W.....”

Sam and Dean muttered an apology under their breath, avoiding Gabriel's gaze.

Gabriel's forehead crinkled up. “Not much to tell after that. It got kinda fuzzy.”

“Yeah, well, we found your dead 'corpse' there when we went back after Chuck's warning that we had put you in danger. You don't remember what happened there?” Dean asked impatiently.

“Ok, me and dead corpses? It happens. Frequently.” Gabriel retorted, then sighed heavily. “I'm really very sorry, and I truly wish that I could help you fellas, but someone put the whammy on me. I can't remember a thing, just waking up in that office with Chuck the Prophet and Jesse the ex-Antichrist.”

“Is that even possible?” Castiel asked, walking up to the counter. “You're one of the original Archangels....the power required to wipe out your functional memory....”

“Boggles the 'ol noodle, don't it?” Gabriel snorted. “More interesting, is Jesse back there.”

“How do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Well, he's also apparently received the factory reset, so to speak. Last thing he remembers is being in Australia rocking the alligator-skin boots or whatever it is that he was doing down there.”

“Yeah, so?”

Gabriel looked annoyed. “ _So_....doesn't it seem a bit odd to you that two key players in this little drama suddenly get a smoke-screen where their memories used to be? Especially in matters regarding our ever-unidentifiable opponents?”

“Obviously more than coincidence,” Crowley grunted, placing his drink reverently on the countertop and lightly drumming his fingers on it. “Believe it or not, that thought had crossed my mind.”

“And?” Gabriel inquired pseudo-dramatically, his tone perturbed.

“And, if I were to hazard a guess in this circumstance, I would say there is a third, even more unidentified party at work here. Wouldn't you agree Castiel?”

The Angel let out a sigh looked at the floor. “Your....logic doesn't seem flawed.”

“'Scuse me? What are we talking about now?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel hesitated and looked up at his brother's eyes, setting his jaw. “God.”

Gabriel sat in stunned silence for a moment before barking out a laugh.

“ _Him_? You can't....you can't really be serious?!”

Castiel didn't flinch, just lowered his chin a little, holding Gabriel's incredulous gaze.

“Castiel.....come  _on_ !” Gabriel finally relented. “No one has heard hide nor hair from the Great Mystery for more millenia than even I can count! And trust me on this bro, I was there, His last words were along the lines of 'Never, ever, getting involved in the affairs of mankind again.” His smile faded and he closed his eyes and shook his head. “And need I remind you, Castiel, when Dad says things like that, He tends to  _mean_ them.”

“Well, his Prophet is active and giving out plenty of information,” Sam broke in. “Not to mention, Chuck was the only one there when Jesse and Gabriel woke up.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Doesn't mean much,  _mi amigo_ . Prophets can get commands from Heaven as well. Doesn't necessarily have to come from the big man Himself.”

“Since when?” Sam asked. “I thought....”

“Since when? Since you two bozos got involved, not to put too fine a point on it,” Gabriel interrupted. “Prophets used to be basically the Word of God, and guarded by Archangels, which there aren't a plethora of nowadays....well, do I really need to continue here?”

“Indulge us,” Crowley said, gulping his whiskey with a hearty smack of his lips afterwards.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Not that it's important, but the _revolutions_.....plural....in Heaven lately have put the whole Holy chain of command in a bit of an uproar. We also had – and I do say _hate_ to keep mentioning names and pointing fingers here – certain Kings of Hell gathering and executing potential future Prophets at a rather alarming rate.” Gabriel stopped and glared at Crowley, who looked away at a sales poster showing a cartoon Yugo speeding down a country road.

“ _Anyhoo_ ....” Gabriel continued, his tone scolding. “ the whole chain of Prophets got eternally screwed up after that. There was also absolutely zero leadership in Heaven....” he flicked his eyes to Castiel, who also flinched away from the accusing gaze. “And then Chuck, who had literally disappeared out of existence, shows back up and he still is an open receptor for the commands of Heaven....but Suriel figured out that pretty much  _anything_ on Angel radio was getting through to him, so.....forget it. It ain't Dad, Castiel, sorry.”

Crowley, digesting this, suddenly began to turn very pale.

“Castiel....please tell me you didn't know about this....” he asked, staring blank-eyed into space.

“Of course I didn't Crowley, I thought the same as you....”

“.....because all of this time, I've been helping you.....”

“Crowley.....”

“....because you told me, no you  _promised_ me, that  _God Himself_ was going to get me my throne back....” Crowley continued, voice dropping along with his shoulders. He glanced back up, anger building in his expression.

“So, if Chuck wasn't getting our marching orders from God....who in the hell was he getting them from?!” he growled.

Castiel and Crowley stared at each other intensely for a minute, the tension in the air thick.

“Nothing? No great insights? Well, I suppose I should go find out then, shouldn't I?” Crowley whispered dangerously, then disappeared.

“Crowley!!” Castiel shouted into the empty space. He looked over at Dean and Sam. “I'll....I'll see if I can stop him....”

Dean nodded. “Better hurry....”

Castiel nodded, and with a faint flutter of great wings, disappeared.

“Was it something I said?” Gabriel muttered, walking over to the counter and pouring himself a healthy shot of whiskey.

 

***

 

Crowley materialized in a small kitchen/break area in his Atlanta office where Chuck was busy making sandwiches for himself and Jesse. He paused with the knife in the air, smothered with mayonnaise, and raised an eyebrow at Crowley.

“Want one?” he asked. “They're BLT's....well, with turkey, because I couldn't find any bacon....”

Crowley gestured with one hand and Chuck flew through the air to land with a carsh and a grunt against the cabinets in the kitchen, glasses and dishes rattling. A door flew open and a few dishes hit the floor.

“Hey!!” Jesse shouted, jumping up.

“You, be quiet!” Crowley shouted with a nod in Jesse's direction. “You....” Crowley hissed dangerously, striding over to peer up at Chuck. “....start talking.”

“Ow....” Chuck whimpered. He twisted his neck to look down at Crowley, fear evident on his face. “What...why?”

“Who's giving you the marching orders, Oracle-boy?” Crowley growled. “Where are your prophecies coming from?”

“Wh-What...?!” Chuck stammered. “I don't know what you're talking.....”

Crowley waved his hand and Chuck came away from and then slammed back against the cabinets.

“Leave him alone!” Jesse shouted, grabbing Crowley by the coat.

Crowley shot his arm out and Jesse was flung backwards into his chair. He struggled to get up, but was pinned there.

“I told you to stay quiet,” Crowley said calmly. “Now, back to the matter at hand.” He lowered his hand and Chuck slid down against the wall until he was eye-to-eye with Crowley. Crowley leaned in. “Who?”

“Don't they come from the Lord or something? I thought that had been firmly established,” Chuck whimpered.

Crowley shook his head. “Nu-uh. Not anymore, not according to recent news. So, I need to know. Where are your prophecies coming from?”

Chuck closed his eyes and grunted in pain. “Look, it's the same as always, OK? I get a massive migraine, the visions come to me, and that's it. Can you please let me go now?”

Crowley studied his face closely, watching the little man writhe in pain.

“He's telling the truth, Crowley,” Castiel's voice came from behind him. “He doesn't know.”

Crowley sighed and let Chuck down gently. “Don't you think I know that, Castiel? I can tell when someone's lying to me....” He looked at the Angel glowering at him. Castiel's eyes flicked to Chuck and back to Crowley, waiting.

Crowley sighed , then nodded and turned back to Chuck. “Sorry....” he muttered reluctantly. “It's been a very bad couple of months.”

“Tell me about it,” Chuck replied wincing and rubbing his shoulder.

“Here, let me,” Castiel said. He touched two fingers to Chuck's forehead. “Better?”

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” Chuck answered, glowering petulantly at Crowley. “There are better ways to ask, you know?”

“I'm up to my eyeballs in spies and misinformation, and quite frankly, I think I've shown remarkable restraint taking it so well this far,” Crowley answered. He looked at Castiel. “So, he doesn't know where the prophecies are coming from....that means there's no guarantee I get paid at all at the end of this.”

Castiel squared his shoulders. “We know that without your help, that we all end up dead.”

Crowley smiled wryly. “How sweet. But you know what? I'm thinking that my priorities shifted a touch just now. I'm thinking that mayhaps there is a sure-fire way to get my throne back.”

Castiel took a hesitant step forward. “Crowley....we both know that this is about more than a throne....”

Crowley frowned. “Is it?” He shook his head and straightened his jacket. “Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do, choir-boy. Maybe that's all it was ever about.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Crowley, what are you thinking of doing?”

Crowley opened his eyes slowly. “What I do best, Castiel. I'm going to make a deal.”

With that, he vanished. Castiel let out a slow breath and slumped against the wall, forearm first, his head tucked into his elbow.

“What was that all about?” Chuck asked quietly.

“He thinks he's been mislead, specifically by you,” Castiel murmured.

“Me? Hey, don't shoot the messenger....”

Castiel took his head out and looked at the prophet. “You were also present when both Jesse and Gabriel lost their memories.”

“And you think that I had something to do with that?!” Chuck asked incredulously. “C'mon man, I'm just the mouthpiece here....”

Castiel shook his head. “No, I don't think that it was you, actually....I thought....maybe....”

“What?”

Castiel shook his head again. “I thought that maybe it was God. That He had some kind of reasoning behind it. Some kind of plan.”

Chuck rubbed his chin and went back over to the counter. With a sigh, he picked up where he had left off making the sandwiches.

“Maybe it is,” Jesse said after a long silence.

“Come again?” Castiel asked, breaking out of his silent reverie.

“Well, I mean, it _could_ still be God's plan....from what I know about it, He works in mysterious ways, right? Behind the scenes....so it might actually still be His hand in it, right?”

Castiel snorted. “I don't know anymore.”

Chuck looked up at him sternly, concern all over his face. “Castiel, don't tell me you're losing faith again....”

Castiel stared at him, then shook his head and smiled. “No....no, I suppose that you have a point....”

“Good,” Chuck smiled back. “So, in the absence of knowledge of the higher plan, what's yours?”

Castiel shrugged. “Use some locator spells to try to find Rowena. Hope that Crowley doesn't do something more stupid than usual.” He looked at them both. “Are you going to be OK here?”

Chuck smirked at him. “Right as rain. Just....maybe see if you can keep Crowley from paying me anymore surprise visits....I'd appreciate that.”

Castiel gave him a tight smile. “I'll see what I can do.” With that, he flew away.

“Is it....always like this around here?” Jesse asked, picking up some plates that were still intact and putting them back onto the shelves.

“Welcome to my life,” Chuck grinned. “Now you know why I drink so damned much.”

 


	3. Under the Skin

# Under the Skin

Angela watched impassively as the witch worked on the spell. She glanced over at Robert....that was his name wasn't it? Robert....? She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it. Everything....everything was so fuzzy lately....since....Minnesota. Yes. She had been in Minnesota. On a date. Mall of America. And then....and then....

“Herald?” came the silky smooth voice of the Angel, breaking into Angela's thoughts, snapping her back to reality. That's right. She was a Herald now. A brand-new Archangel. Beyond the thoughts of man....full of power. Taken from....she frowned. Where had she gotten this power? Jesse....his name was Jesse....

“Herald!” the Angel barked, his blue eyes piercing into her own. She focused and looked back at him. The young teen put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Are you allright? You seem to be....drifting.”

“No, my Lord....” Angela replied, frowning. “It was....I'm fine now.”

The Angel studied her closely for a few seconds, his eyes looking into hers. He nodded. “It's probably nothing. A side-effect of the power transfer.” He sighed and stepped back, glancing over his shoulder at the witch. The gloomy, misting air of the cemetery clung and swirled around them all. “I'm sure it will pass,” he muttered before turning back to her and smiling. “Let me know if you experience any more....incidents, is that clear?”

Angela nodded, straightening her shoulders dutifully and keeping watch on the witch, looking for any deception. She was a tricky one. They had warned her. She narrowed her eyes, concentrating harder. The Angel nodded in approval and walked away back towards his brother.

Angela glanced again over at Robert, feeling his eyes on her. He looked....confused. She lowered her chin at him, and he blinked in response. He turned his head slowly back to his vigil over Rowena, and she followed suit, a nagging thought....feeling? Something....moving in the back of her mind....

 

***

 

“That...that can't be right...” Dean grumbled, looking down at the map that was spread out on the conference table. “Why the hell would they go there?”

“Why not?” Sam replied, straightening up from the table. “Seems appropriate for the end of the world. Almost happened there once before....”

“The spell did work correctly,” Castiel muttered, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Rowena is there.”

Sam nodded in affirmation and flicked a few buttons on the Big Board's remote, pulling up a map of Lawrence, Kansas. He navigated the cursor about forty miles away to a point and zoomed in, bringing up the satellite images, getting as close to the ground as he could. The letters 'Stull Cemetery” stood out on a rickety gate over broken ground.

“Wait a minute,” Leon said quietly, rising from a chair at the back of the room. “I think I know that place....”

“Really? You been there before?” Sam asked.

“Yeah....the Angel and Demon, those guys were hanging out there back when I first got my power....they took me there when they amped it up....right before....right before I attacked Baltimore....” Leon said, looking away in disgust.

“What the hell could they want there?” Dean asked, scratching at his chin. “Any ideas? Cas?”

“It was a place where a portal to Lucifer's Cage was opened once, obviously,” Castiel replied. “It could be that they used it to access the Cage again and kill Lucifer.”

“Could they actually have done that? I thought that was a one-way trip,” Sam asked.

Castiel shrugged. “It's possible in theory. The four Horseman's Rings were never really destroyed, just buried and trapped there in an inter-spatial zone.”

“Wait....you mean to tell me that the keys to Lucifer's frikkin Cage have been there this whole damned time?” Dean asked, incredulous.

Castiel leveled a look at him. “It's not that simple,” Castiel replied. “Even the Angels were unsuccessful attempting to recapture the rings. They are very well sealed away....or, at least I think that they are....”

“ _Think_ that they are....?”

Castiel bristled in annoyance. “I told you, Dean. All attempts to recover the rings were unsuccessful. It is safe to assume....”

“Yeah,  _that's_ a good word....”

“Will you let me finish?”

“Well, I dunno, any more covert-ops that Heavens been running behind our back that you want to let us in on?”

“There is a good reason that we don't tell you everything, Dean....”

“People!” Sam broke in. “C'mon! Focus, OK?” He ran a hand through his hair, huffing. “OK, so we have to believe that they got those Rings, and that's how they got into the Cage, because Crowley has been monitoring the main entrance to that thing this whole time. But....why go back there? What do they need there now?”

“Simple,” Castiel answered, looking up at the Big Board. “It has to end where it began.” He turned around towards them. “It's the exact same reason Michael and Lucifer went there to fight in the first place. That cemetery is a focal point for the Apocalypse.”

“So, now what?” Same asked. “We can't exactly just storm in there and get Rowena back. We're looking at fighting both the Angel and the Demon, plus seven Archangels to boot. We'd get our asses kicked.”

“Which is exactly what happened the last time I went into that cemetery looking for a fight,” Dean mumbled.

“There might be a chance....” Castiel said, pacing to the head of the table.

“All ears,” Dean grunted in reply.

“Well, if they did indeed use the Rings to re-open the Cage from Stull, and are still in possession of the Rings, then that gateway is still open.”

“How does that help us?” Sam frowned.

“I can take us into the Cage from the main entrance,” Castiel said, musing. “It should be safe....since Lucifer is dead.” He paced away before continuing. “We find that entrance, sneak through it, locate Rowena, and take her back the same way.”

“There's a lotta 'ifs' there, Cas....” Dean said, raising his eyebrows.

Castiel nodded in agreement. “It's out best shot, however. They wont be aware that we know about the open gateway, and will be guarding the main Cemetery entrance. They will most likely also be guarding Rowena very closely, so we need to use the element of surprise to it's utmost advantage. In and out, as quickly as possible.”

“Sounds like a good Saturday night...:” Dean smirked. Sam rolled his eyes. “Ok, then we keep it small, me, you and Dean, that's it,” he replied, looking up in warning at Leon, Kinsey and David. He shook his head. “We have the most experience with this. Besides, we might need a rescue ourselves if this whole thing goes south.”

Leon shrugged, looking at his two companions. “Ok, sure, I get it. Sounds solid enough. When are we doing this?”

“Immediately,” Castiel answered, looking over at Sam and Dean. “We're running out of time, and there's no telling what they are doing with Rowena there. We still have the Book of the Damned,” he glanced over to the Tome sitting on the table. “But there are other spell books out there, and it is likely they have access to them.”

“As if there wasn't enough pressure,” Dean muttered. “Allright, saddle up. We got a long way to go folks. Um....”

“What?” Castiel asked, titling his head.

“Crowley? We....still don't know where he is or what he's up to.”

Castiel clenched his jaw. “Something reckless, without a doubt. Benefiting only himself.” He shook his head. “We can't worry about him right now. We need to get Rowena away from them. There's no telling what they're doing.”

 

***

 

Rowena frowned, turning the page in the Book. She breathed out and straightened up away from it, turning to the cover.

“Something amiss?” came a sarcastic voice from next to her. She shivered.

She gathered her courage, trying to forget all of the bad things that were probably going to happen to her if she mis-spoke. “Well, actually....yeah, there is,” she answered. “This spell.....is a bit....wonky.”

The Demon cocked his head. “Please define 'wonky' for me.”

“Well, it's as if....” she turned back to the spell and flipped the page, frowning again. “Are there pages missing?”

The Demon smiled at her. “Whatever do you mean?”  
“It means that I cannot continue with the spell as it's written,” Rowena answered carefully. “It's like it's incomplete, like part of it is missing.”

“Well, that  _is_ a problem, “the Demon said, moving to stand next to her.

“I....I don't mean to pry, my Lord,” Rowena continued, “but is this the actual Book of the Damned?”

The Demon smiled mysteriously and tilted his head. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, the actual Book is practically indestructible,” Rowena sniffed. “So, removed or missing pages should be, well....impossible.”

The Demon continued to smile. “Well done, witch,” he purred. He shrugged. “No, you're right. It's a copy.”

Rowena blinked. “A....a copy? You have a  _copy_ of the bloody Book of the Damned?” She looked back down at the book in wonder.

“Yeah, I might have read it a few hundred times,” the Demon mused, looking skyward. “The things that I do in my spare millenia....”

“Where did you get the human skin....?” Rowena asked, then abruptly held up a hand. “Never mind....I don't want to know.” The Demon grinned back wickedly. “It is a very good, copy, though, my Lord,” she added politely, gulping.

“But apparently a flawed one,” the Demon sighed. “Figures. I did write from memory after all. Necessary evil- damn that Castiel.... Brother?!” he called out suddenly, making Rowena jump. “Oh brother where art thou?”

The Angel appeared out of the mists next to the Demon.

“Yes?” he asked in a bored monotone.

“It appears that my memory is not as perfect as I bragged. We're going to need the real Book back.”

The Angel looked down at the Book on the stone slab and then back up at the Demon. “We don't have time for this, brother. You  _assured_ me...”

“Yes, well, I was  _wrong_ ,” the Demon answered exaggeratedly, throwing his hands up in the air. “C'mon, it was worth a shot.”

The Angel glared at him and then let his shoulders slump. “I suppose so. Well then. It seems that we need to conduct an assault on Atlanta.” He glanced over at Rowena. “What do we do with her?”

The Demon shrugged. “Leave her here with a couple of Heralds to guard her. Trevor and Jones should do. The rest come with us. There's no telling what kind of defenses Crowley has set up there. And if those damned Winchesters are there with those bullets of theirs.....”

The Angel smiled. “I look forward to destroying those little insects when the time comes. Let them try.”

The Demon considered him for a minute and shook his head. “Such a dork....” he muttered under his breath as he moved to the Heralds, slapping Trevor and Jones on the chest. “You two, keep an eye on  _that_ ,” he said, pointing at Rowena. “The rest of you, with us. We got us a little smash n' grab to do.”

 

***

 

Crowley materialized in the middle of a pile of white stone marble, looking around. He straightened his jacket and strode forward into the ruins of Heaven's Library.

“Heellllloooo?” he called, cupping his hands over his mouth. “Anybody home?”

He heard a crunch on the ground behind him and turned slowly, smiling, his hands out to his sides.

“I'm unarmed,” he said. “Can we talk?”

“What could you possibly want here, filth?” the Angel Issiah spat. His fellow Council member, Obadiah, walked up next to him, his hand wrapped around an Angel Blade, staring at Crowley with pure hate in his eyes.

Crowley frowned. “And where's Astriel?”

The two Angels glared at him.

“Dead,” Obadiah finally answered. “As you are soon to be.”

Crowley frowned. “Seems that I'm out of friends, then, seeing as to how Suriel is also dead....”

“It's all your fault!” Issiah screamed in rage. “Look around you! Heaven has been reduced to ashes! All because of your failures! You and that....that  _traitor_ Castiel!” He took a threatening stride towards Crowley. “What are you doing here, Demon? I can't believe you came all this way to die?”

Crowley smiled wickedly.

“Of course I didn't,” he replied calmly. “I'm a businessman, my newly found friends. And I am here, obviously, to make a deal.”

 


	4. Signal Fires

# Signal Fires

_Yulara, Australia – 2014_

 

Jesse smiled over his cereal bowl as he took up another spoonful, watching cautiously the tense exchange between his girlfriend Pangari and her mother.

“It's  bad enough,  _Molum_ _ 1 _ ,” her mother said quietly, “ that you have moved here to stay with this....this  _Gubbah_ _ 2 _ ....” She looked up sternly at Jesse while Pangari let out an exasperated breath. Her mother raised her eyebrows, waiting. She nodded, continuing. “But this thing that you want, to take the passage....this is a thing for men, Pangari, not for women – we have our own duties to uphold in the tribe.” She leaned back in her wooden chair and crossed her arms, her weathered and brown brow wrinkling. “I will not take this back to the headman. You can forget it.”

“Mother, you can stop calling him  _Gubbah_ right this second, or leave our house now,” Pangari said, leaning forward, eyes blazing. “His name is 'Jesse Turner', and as long as you are in  _our_ house, you will respect that.”

Her mother stuck out her lower lip and looked away. Pangari continued to stare at her. Finally, her mother relented, waving a hand dismissively in the air.

“I will not invite evil beasts into your house,” she replied finally, looking back at Pangari. “He is then called 'Jesse Turner' by me.”

Pangari's stare only lost a little bit of intensity, meeting her mother's eyes directly, but Jesse did see them soften a bit, and the corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily in a small smile of victory.

“And the Walkabout?”

Her mother hissed and clenched her teeth. “That is the  _Gubb'nahs_ name for it, Pangari! They use it now to describe lazy and stupid people that cannot be relied upon! If I am to call your man “Jesse Turner”, then you will not be using this word!”

Pangari sighed. “OK then, fine....then....let's just say that I want to become temporally mobile.”

Her mother eyed her warily. “What is this then? This political correctness thing that I hear about? You think that by changing the word for something that it changes it's meaning?”

Pangari threw her hands up in the air. Jesse smiled again and finished his cereal, pushing the bowl away and leaning back from the fray. Her mother had just hit what he had been calling the 'Burn-Point” - Pangari's famous short-fuse.

“What the hell do I call it then, Mother? The tribe has no word for it.”

The mother nodded. “Does there have to be a word for everything? The boys leave to find the Song. When they have found it, then they are men. It is that simple.”

Pangari stood up and started pacing in the little room, arms crossed over her chest. “And the women, they keep the Songs, yes?”

“Of course.”

Pangari spun, arms akimbo. “Well, that's my entire point then, isn't it?! Why do the boys get to actually go out and live and find the Song, while all we do is sing them?” She sighed loudly, her bare feet tapping impatiently on the floor.

Her mother eyed her. “You would turn against all of our ancestors and traditions? For what? For your pride?”

“No, mother, for  _progress_ ....” Pangari pleaded, her eyes intense. “Why should I not be allowed to do a thing, to learn a thing, when it hurts no one. I want to do this, I  _can_ do this. You talk to me about pride? By forbidding me to live freely, it shows only the stubbornness of our people. It puts their pride before my life.”

Her mother sighed, looking away again. “This all happens to us since the  _Gubb'nahs_ came here....before....”

“Stop that!” Pangari screamed, making Jesse wince. “This is the world we live in, Mother! You can cross your arms and spit into the dirt and pout and scream all you want, but our tribe's ways are not the only ways that there are! And calling them names and treating them with no respect is the action of a....of a child!” Her mother shot her a look of warning at the insult, but Pangari ignored it, pushing on. “Our best, our  _strongest_ belief is to respect  _all_ life, even the life that seeks to continue by taking ours, yeah? So get off your high-horse and respect theirs!” She stopped, breathing hard. Her mother watched her for a time and got up from her chair slowly, bracing herself against the sturdy wooden arms.

“I should go back now, _duruninang_ 3 your father and the others are waiting for me.”

A tear went down the side of Pangari's face. “ _Wiyanga_ _4_ ....”

Her mother hesitated on the front step, turning her head slightly.

“I will....mention this thing to them, Pangari....” she shook her head slightly. “They will understand, I think.” She snorted to herself, a bitter smile coming onto her face. “After all, it comes from you.... what  _else_ would they ever expect?”

Jesse and Pangari watched in silence as the old woman shuffled out of the small town of Yulara towards the open country beyond and in the direction of Uluru and Ayers Rock. Pangari finally let out a deep breath and turned sheepishly back towards Jesse.

“Too much?”

Jesse shrugged and held out his arms. Pangari smiled and gratefully melted into them. He lowered his face to her head and inhaled the flowery scent of her hair.

“Who am I to say, anyway,” he sighed. “I'm about as outside of this as anyone can get.”

She slapped him playfully, but sharply on the chest, pulling away and staring up at him. “No, see? That's my whole point. There is no such thing as an outside in this world, Jesse.” She frowned and looked back towards where her mother had departed. “Or, I mean, at least there shouldn't be.”

Jesse hugged her from behind. “Well, let's just say there's a lot of learning to do.”

“Quite a bit,” Pangari agreed. She squinted in thought. “And shopping. Do you realize we have nothing to eat tonight?”

Jesse smiled. “I was actually aware of that, care to accompany me into the vast, sprawling metropolis that is our town?”

She smiled playfully back at him. “Delighted. And no, for the millionth time, we are  _not_ moving to Sydney.”

 

***

 

“What about these?” Jesse asked, picking out a group of bananas and examining them rather dubiously in the fresh fruits section of the IGA Supermarket.

Pangari frowned. “To go with the fish?” She shook her head. “Jesse, you need to brush up on your cooking, love.”

“Hey, I told you, I was a latch-key kid - Chef-Boy-R-Dee was the highlight of my day,” Jesse muttered, putting the bananas back.

They picked their way through the market, filling their basket and checked out, chatting amiably, doing their best to forget the breakfast with Pangari's mother earlier. The sun, even though it was approaching dusk, was shining down mercilessly on them as they walked back to the car, passing the 'Emu Apartment' complex to their right.

“Oi! Yeah you! With the Boong there!” came a shout from a group of some grubby looking men lounging on the tailgate of a beat up pick-up truck. Jesse looked over angrily, but Pangari didn't react.

“Just ignore them.....” she said under her breath, but Jesse felt the air suddenly thicken with tension.

The men put down their beers and started walking briskly over to them. Jesse slowed, instinctively putting himself between them and Pangari.

“Hey, it's rude to ignore people what's talking to ya', know that?” one of the men said, moving closer.

Jesse tilted his head to the side. “Oh, I can think of much ruder things.”

One of the men with a scraggly, half grown beard leaned closer. Jesse wrinkled his nose at the intense smell of alcohol and body odor and leaned away.

“What have we here, fellas. Not only a bleedin' Boong, but a Yank as well.” He turned his head and spat on the sidewalk. “What's this country comin' to?”

Jesse smiled evilly. “Not sure. Maybe it's evolution.”

The man turned white with anger and made a fist, taking a warning step towards them.

“Everything allright here, fellas?” came a voice from behind them. Jesse glanced in that direction and saw a blue-clad constable approaching them at a half-trot, baton slapping meaningfully in his palm.

The bearded man flicked his red-rimmed eyes over at the officer and quickly back to Jesse, a smirk of sarcastic pleasantry coming over his features.

“No problem at all, Officer Mooney,” he said. “Just havin' a friendly word here with....”

“I know what words you're having Mr. Trotter,” Officer Mooney cut him off, moving between Jesse and them, towering over everyone there. “And I thought I told you and yer' boys here to stop this nonsense – on more than one occasion.” He looked around the parking lot, noticing that a few people on their way had noticed the scene and were rubber-necking. “It's bad for tourism. Now, do I have to lock the lot of you up for the night, or are you gonna move along all peaceful-like?”

Trotter held up both his hands palms out and stepped quickly back, his three friends doing the same. He smiled a grimy, yellow-toothed grin at the officer.

“No need fer that, now. We were just callin' a halt to the day's festivities as it were. Movin' along now officer!” he chirped in falsetto pleasantry. He flicked a murderous gaze in Jesse's direction before pivoting on his heel and walking back to his truck.

Officer Mooney sighed and turned back to Jesse.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “You know how some folk can get, right?” He squinted at Jesse. “Seen you around before, haven't I?”

Jesse nodded. “Just moved in less than a year ago.”

Mooney nodded. “Yeah, now, that old stead out on the outskirts east of here, isn't it?”

“Yep, that's the one,” Jesse answered.

“How're you finding it?”

“Quiet, for the most part,” Jesse answered. “I....like it that way.”

“I hear ya. Look, like I said, sorry about that. But, I can't make any promises that things like that won't happen again, you know, especially with....” he gave Pangari a meaningful look. “No offense intended. Truly.”

Jesse met the large man's eyes for a long time and nodded. “None taken. Well, we'd like to be on our way now.”

“No, no, by all means. You folks stay safe now,” the officer said cheerfully, walking off and waving.

Jesse and Pangari walked back to the car in silence and loaded the groceries. They pulled out of the central shopping area and turned onto the highway leading back to their ranch.

After listening to the radio for a while Jesse cleared his throat.

“Something on your mind?” Pangari asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jesse sighed. “No....um....I mean....are you OK?”

Pangari smiled. “I grew up around here, Jesse, remember?”

“I know, I know, but doesn't that crap piss you off? I mean, half of the population of Yulara is Aborigine, and still there's that shit going on.” He sighed. “I mean, in Sydney...it's not out in the middle of the Outback like it is here, you know?”

“Oh Jesse, not again!” Pangari complained. She looked out of the window at the setting sun. “Look, I know, OK. I get it.....but....I grew up in the Bush here, Jesse. And you learn to appreciate the things that aren't hiding under the brush, you get me?”

Jesse frowned and finally shook his head. “No....no, I actually don't think that I do.”

Pangari smiled. “Well, city-boy, it's like this – we're in the middle of the big-bad Outback here, right? Million ways to die.”

Jesse nodded pensively.

“I learned that when a spider is running across the ground in the open, it's a hell of a lot better knowing it's there then stumbling over the bugger hiding behind a rock.”

“You're saying....?”

“I'm saying Sydney is just like a big old rock. It's got spiders and snakes and such sorts in it too, Jesse. You just don't see 'em out in the open like that. Out here, I can see it.”

Jesse frowned. “And then what? You just avoid them?”

Pangari smiled wickedly. “It depends. The really nasty, hairy ones? Those we need to squish....”

Jesse smiled warmly. “I love you, Pangari. You know that, right?”

Pangari settled back into her seat staring at the horizon, smiling to herself. “I know that city-boy. I know that very much.”

 

***

 

Pangari's fork clinked onto the edge of her plate as she scraped up the last mouthful of her dinner. She settled back with a thoughtful look on her face.

“That....didn't suck....” she said, holding her chin thoughtfully, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Oh please,” Jesse smiled back. “Pat yourself on the back, why don'tcha, you cooked most of it.”

“I did, didn't I?” Pangari laughed in return, throwing her napkin at him and sprinting away from her chair.

Jesse bolted up and began to chase her through the living room.

“Get back here!”

“So you can squish me?” Pangari smiled back, ducking behind a chair.

“Not my first choice....” Jesse murmured, trying to climb over the chair's back.

Pangari let out a laughing shriek as Jesse caught her and drew her into a deep kiss.

A loud crash echoed through the house as a window shattered inwards in the kitchen. They both hugged each other tighter in a jolt of fear and surprise.

“Get on out here Yank!” came a drunken cry from somewhere outside. “Get out here and bring that little Gin with ya! We ain't through talkin' to ya yet!”

Pangari looked up at Jesse, panicked. “Jess....?”

Jesse stared out at the broken window and set his jaw. “It's going to be all right, Pangi. Just....stay here.” He detached himself from her and started to walk towards the front door. She grabbed at his arm, holding tight.

“Wait,” she hissed out. “What if they have guns?” Her eyes searched his pleadingly. “C'mon, we get out the back. I can lead us into the wild and lose them. They'd never find us in a million years....tomorrow we go get the police....”

Jesse lowered his head and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Pangi....there's....there's stuff about me that you don't know....”

“What are you even  _talking_ about?!” Pangari insisted, tugging at his arm. “Let's go!”

Jesse pulled his arm free and met her eyes. She stopped, seemingly confused by what she saw there.

“Trust me....I'll, I'll explain everything later....I promise.” He looked back at the front door. “But I can't run from this.”

“Jesse, what are you doing?” Pangari asked quietly.

“There's nowhere left for me to run, Pangi.....I'm going to squish some spiders,” he replied simply, walking slowly out of the door.

The dirty truck was parked over their mailbox and part of their fence, the splintered wood lying all over the ground. Jesse looked up at the headlights calmly and the four dark shapes around it.

“Get the hell off of my property,” he said in a monotone.

“Whooooo - now aren't I shakin' in my boots!” Trotter spat back, moving closer. He was holding a half-empty bottle in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Jesse looked at the gun, unconcerned, then back up at the drunken man.

“You should be,” he answered.

Trotter narrowed his eyes and smashed the bottle on the ground. He raised the gun and strode forward, his friends moving away from the truck with him, raising weapons of their own.

Suddenly another car pulled up the road, a police cruiser. It roared towards them and came to a stop.

“Looks like the party's over, fellas,” Jesse said, looking over at the car. “Unless you want to spend the rest of your miserable life in jail.”

Officer Mooney climbed out of the car and came to stand next to Jesse. He looked down contemptuously at Trotter, hand on his pistol. Trotter lowered the shotgun barrel.

“Really, Trotter?”

Trotter suddenly let out a guffaw and bent over laughing. Jesse, confused, frowned, looking up at the big policeman.

Mooney pulled out his revolver and held it to Jesse's head.

“Like I said. Bad for tourism in town like that....”

“NO!!!!!” Pangari cried from the front door. She took a shaking, hesitant step forward.

“Don't worry. You'll get your turn as well,” Mooney said, pulling back the hammer on his pistol. “Trotter?”

Trotter ran past Mooney and sprang at Pangari, who turned to flee. He barreled into her as she reached the front steps and they crashed to the ground.

Jesse stared back at Mooney's cool, glassy eyes.

“Who do you think told them where to find you, kid?” Mooney smiled. “Now, we're gonna take your little Boong with us back to town, see? She's gonna have a little stop-over at the station on her own way out of town. And you? If you want to get through this, you spend the time packing, see? If you're still here in the morning...?” He shook his head meaningfully.

Jesse continued to stare. “Pangi? You OK? Are you hurt?”

Trotter and two of his friends had grabbed her tightly by her arms and were dragging her back to the truck. She looked up. “Jesse...?”  
“Are you hurt!?” Jesse repeated.

“Nn---no...”

“Good.” Jesse smiled.

The ground beneath Trotter and his friends exploded in a cloud of dirt and air, flinging them into the air to land in a heap next to the truck, stunned. Circular columns of fire sprung up around them and began turning slowly, trapping them.

Officer Mooney, in shock and surprise, pulled the trigger on his pistol.

He immediately let out a shriek of horror and pain as the metal of the gun warped and wrapped itself around his hand, crushing the bones beneath it. He staggered backwards, staring wide-eyed at Jesse, cradling his hand, as jets of flame sprung from the ground around him as well.

“Pangi!” Jesse shouted, looking over to Pangari. She stood, shaking, looking around in confusion at everything that had happened so suddenly. She then looked up at him, stunned, and Jesse felt himself take in a sharp breath and take a step back.

She looked terrified. Of  _him_ .

He swallowed over the lump in his throat and, with a visceral growl, turned on Mooney and his men.

“You racist pieces of crap,” he rumbled, advancing on them, hand raised. “Seriously? Is the world honestly not big enough for you? Are you that scared?” The circles of flame began to tighten around the men as Jesse advanced. They let out whimpers and cries of terror and pain.

“Well, you're about to learn that there are real things to be afraid of, 'Mates',” Jesse whispered. “Something actually worth it....”

“Jesse....”

Jesse stopped at Pangari's small voice from behind him. He straightened up. He felt her warm hand on the small of his back.

“Jesse....?”

He turned towards her. She was looking up at him, eyes wide.

“Pangi...? Pangi....I'm...I'm....”

“I love you,” she said, setting her jaw. She leaned towards him and circled her arms slowly around his waist. “I love you, Jesse Turner,” she repeated, her voice muffled in his chest.

Jesse felt his eyes closing against the sudden tears that were there. He relaxed, letting out a breath, and put his arms around Pangari.

The flames died down around Mooney, Trotter and his men. They scrambled back from the pair, wide eyed.

“What....what  _are_ you...?” Trotter stammered, climbing into the cab of the truck and fumbling with the keys.

“Something that you shouldn't have ever messed with,” Jesse said, looking up at the truck. “Something stronger than you'll ever be.” He lowered his head back to Pangari. “Now get out of here and never come back;” he murmured to no one in particular.

The truck spun it's tires wildly on the gravel and jolted off back to town.

They held each other there for a long, long time before Pangari snorted, laughing into his chest.

“Wh...what?” Jesse asked, confused, pushing her gently away.

“'Get out of here and never come back'.....” she mocked him, her voice deep, eyes glittering.

Jesse felt himself smiling back sheepishly. He ran a hand back thorough his hair. “Uh....yeah?”

She snorted again. “Well would you ever come back here again after all of  that ?”

Jesse grinned. “No, no I guess I wouldn't.....” He frowned. “Pangi....I,”

She nodded, her smile fading. She took his hand, leading him back to the house. “Yep. You got some 'splaining to do, Mister Turner,” she said. “But in the morning. Tonight, tonight I don't want to talk about anything else but us, OK?”

He blinked. “Yeah....yeah, I can do that.”

She smiled back at him over her shoulder.

“Good. Right answer.”

 

***

 

The next morning came. The sun rose. And several Aboriginal men clad only in loincloths were standing around the outer fence of the ranch, silent and still as statues, staring in at them.

Jesse found Pangari staring out of the window, braced against the frame. She turned at him, her eyes wide and full of wonder. Glistening.

“Jesse....”

“Pangi, what....what is this?”

“Oh Jesse.....” she said, stepping back from the window and grabbing both of his hands. “She....they....did it, Jesse. This....they've come to lead me on the path of the Song.”

Jesse looked confused, then smiled broadly. “But....but that's great! Right?”

She smiled and nodded, but her eyes were filling with tears again. “Jesse....this also means that I have to leave....I have to leave now....”

Jesse frowned. “Like, as in....  _now_ , now?” He held his breath.

Pangari looked pained, nodding slowly. “ _Now_ , now,” she repeated. “I can take nothing with me.” She met his eyes and smiled at him. “Well, almost nothing,” she said meaningfully, placing his open hand over her heart.

Jesse swallowed back tears. “For how long?”

Pangari looked at the floor. “Six months.”

Jesse felt the air go out of his lungs. “So long....”

Pangari nodded slowly. “I know.” She looked up at him, determined. “Jesse...I....”

He shook his head immediately. “No, Pangari. No, this is what you want. And this is....I dunno what to call it.... _huge_ ....” He smiled at her. She smiled back.

“I go to find my Song, Jesse Turner,” she said. “But I already know the Songs. And I already know where it will lead me back to.” She raised her chin towards him defiantly. “Will you wait for me?”

Jesse grinned and kissed her deeply. “I'm not going anywhere, Pangi. Find your Song.”

They held each other like that for a while, then, wordlessly, Pangari walked out of the front door, shedding her clothes on the way to the fence until, nearly naked and barefoot, she turned up the path with her tribe's elders and walked into the Outback.

He watched the place where she had left for hours, the sun making its trek over his head completely unnoticed, before he sighed and turned back to go into the house.

“I'm afraid that's a promise you might not be able to keep Jesse Turner,” the blue-eyed teenager that was suddenly standing on his porch said to him.

Jesse froze, looking the figure up and down.

“I know what you are,” he said warningly, gathering his energy.

The teen nodded. “Good.”

“What do you want?”

The teen sighed. “Heaven needs your help, Jesse Turner.”

“Heaven needs my  _help_ ?” Jesse snorted. “Well, that's a switch.”

The Angel smiled. “There's a Demon named Crowley, Jesse. He's joined with one of our number. A very powerful Angel – with the goal of taking over Heaven, Hell and all of creation. He's joined with an Angel that I believe you've dealt with before.”

Jesse's eyes narrowed, dread beginning to fill his thoughts. “What's his name?” he whispered after awhile.

“His name....is Castiel.”

Jesse's head swum suddenly and he felt a shock as his blood ran cold. “Yeah, we.....had our differences.”

The Angel grimaced. “Jesse, I honestly wished you had destroyed him those eight years ago. Things....things now are considerably worse.”

Jesse felt a stab of guilt twist in his stomach. He looked over his shoulder at the brush where he had last seen Pangari, then back to the Angel.

“What do you need me to do?”

The Angel smiled. “Come in. Let's talk.”

He went inside and Jesse followed. Before taking the final step through the door, he looked back to the Outback.

“I'll find you, Pangari,” he whispered. “I promise. I will find you when I'm done.”

 

***

 

“Herald?!!” the Angel shouted, snapping Angela once again out of her thoughts. She found herself staring at Robert. Again. The Angel frowned. “Did you hear a single word that I just said? We need to leave for Crowley's lair immediately.” He followed her gaze over to Robert. “What is it that you see in him?” He stalked over to Robert. “And her? Do you....have feelings for each other?”

Angela felt herself swallow. “Of....of course not, my Lord.” The Angel stared intensely at Robert until he too, shook his head no.

“I'm not convinced,” The Angel growled. “You are Archangels, now, the Heralds of the New Order. If I see even the slightest hint of human emotion from either of you again.....” his eyes danced dangerously with swirling color. He watched them closely and finally nodded. “As I said, we have a mission to accomplish.  _Stay focused_ .” He stalked off into the mist, barking orders at he other Heralds. Angela shook her head, then found herself looking back almost involuntarily at Robert. He was looking at her as well.

And, as one, they smiled at each other.

1 _Girl_

2 _White Man_

3 _Daughter_

4 _Mother_

 


	5. Boom

# Boom

_Atlanta – Present Day_

 

“Oh......oh......shiiii....!!!!!” the Demon security guard cried out as he dove for cover. He just cleared the concrete barricade outside of the parking garage as lighting and a wave of crushing invisible force slammed into the ground in front of Crowley's office building.

The dust settled as seven figures alighted gently from the sky onto the ground outside the shattered entryway.

The Angel and the Demon nodded in satisfaction and looked up as one at the building's upper floors.

“13 th floor?” the Angel asked.

“Ahhhhh-yeeep,” the Demon answered, shaking his head slightly. “How.....tragically old school.” He turned his blazing red eyes towards the five Heralds and moved closer to one of them – the one named 'Sarah'. The teen turned her head towards the Demon and smiled.

“OK, so, we know the building itself is warded against both Angels and Demons, quite unfortunate for us, so we go in the hard way – floor by floor. Expect resistance. Heavy resistance. Angel wards or Demon wards alone won't stop you, but look out for them being used in tandem.”

Sarah nodded in understanding. “And what if there are?”

The Demon waved his hand at the pile of smoking rubble. “This. Good old brute force. Wards don't work so well when the walls they are painted on are reduced to pebbles. But please remember to not knock down too many load bearing beams or walls. It does us no good if the entire building comes down on us.”

Sarah frowned. “You're not coming with us, my Lord?”

The Demon shook his head. “My brother and I will join you once the path is cleared. In the meantime....” He looked up meaningfully and turned his head towards the stream of police cars, SWAT-Team vans and Fire Engines that were storming up Auburn Avenue. “We will be dealing with the Muggle response.”

Sarah nodded at the other four Heralds – the new ones that they had picked up from the Mall of America – Angela, Robert, the young kid Milo, and the ex hot-dog vendor Stephen, and shook her head. She wished Jones and Trevor were here with her, but the Masters had left them back in the graveyard to guard Rowena. Robert and Angela were unreliable; too ga-ga for each other to stay focused in a fight. The kid Milo was OK, but cocky, and Stephen was a loose-cannon, completely unpredictable. She sighed, attempting to put those thoughts out of her head.  _Hadn't I also been just like them not so long ago?_ , she thought.  _Untested, un-bloodied, yearning for power. Revenge. Revenge on....revenge on what, Sarah?_ , her thoughts persisted, uninvited. W _hat happened to you – you were so powerless, they were so strong....they hurt you. But is this the answer? You can do anything now – and this is what you want to do? Kill.....destroy....what? The entire world...? You would become just like them if you do that....._ She grimaced and clenched her jaw, squeezing her eyes shut.  _Where were these thoughts coming from?_ They had been creeping up on her more and more frequently lately – ever since she had been raised to Herald. She had never been filled with so much self-doubt before. She had always just done as she felt was right....to live, to fight to survive. Where was this new sense of....what was it? Responsibility? She stopped cold, noticing her fists were clenched by her sides and tears were coming out of the corners of her eyes. The other Heralds had also stopped and were staring at her now. 

At that moment, a Demon guard, bleeding from the head, suit torn asunder, sprung up at them as they passed letting out a ferocious scream, breaking up their little tableau. The Herald Stephen swiped out his hand lightning fast to his side and caught the Demon's head in his palm, holding him there effortlessly in mid-air. There was a flash of light and black smoke trickled feebly away from the Demon's eyes as his now empty vessel crumpled to the ground. Stephen looked down at the corpse in disdain, his lip curled back in a snarl. He looked up at his fellow Heralds and spat to the side.

“Let's get going. What's the delay?”

Sarah shook her head clear. “Nothing. No delay. Let's go. Follow me.”

The Demon watched them walk through the entrance of the building, disappearing inside and then he frowned. He looked over at his brother, who was watching him with an unspoken question in his glowing blue eyes.

“Something's wrong, brother,” the Demon whispered. “Something is  _very_ , very wrong.”

The Angel nodded. “It's _Him_. “ he said, emphasizing the designation significantly. “ _He_ did something.”

The Demon shuddered. “Are you sure?”

The Angel closed his eyes. “Positive. It's His style. Always working....indirectly. Letting 'Free-Will' reign.”

“What did He do?”

The Angel turned his head back to the building and looked up towards the 13 th floor.

“Let's ask Him. He's here, after all.”

The Demon paled. “Is He now?” he asked rhetorically. “Are....are we ready for this?”

The Angel sighed. “It has to be done eventually, brother. We are the future. His time....His time is the past.” He whipped his head towards the lines of police that were forming behind them on the street, scanned the police snipers on the rooftops surrounding them quickly. “But later. Now....now we have some insects to crush.”

The Demon smiled. “I like you _so_ much better than before, brother, you know that don't you?”

The Angel turned his maddened blue eyes towards him and returned the smile.

“Of course I do,” he answered simply, a waves of energy screaming out of his outstretched palm at the line of police cars.

 

***  
  


_Hell – The outskirt of the Cage_

 

“Um....Cas....who invited them?” Dean grimaced, staring down at the field of Demons standing guard outside of the Cage.

Castiel stood up, an expression of shock on his face, looking over the field.

“There's....there's thousands of them.....” he said, slipping down to sit on the ground next to Sam and Dean, where they were hidden from view behind a large rock on the path leading down. He shook his head. “I don't understand....what are they doing here? Lucifer is dead. There's nothing in there for them to guard anymore.”

Sam tilted his head to the side. “You think it was Crowley?”

Castiel shook his head. “I honestly don't know, but I don't think so. It makes no sense.” His narrowed his eyes and raised himself to peek over the rock again. “What are they protecting there?”

Dean shook his head. “Doesn't matter. We're boned if we can't figure out a way to get past them.”

Sam sighed. “We can't fight our way through, obviously.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. “Obviously.”

“No back way in?” Dean asked.

“To the Cage? No. No chance.” Castiel answered. “And they're spread out everywhere. There's no way to sneak in.” His shoulders slumped. “We'd need an army to get in there now....”

“Or....better yet, the properly applied items in a properly applied space,” came a gravelly voice from above them.

Castiel Dean and Sam spun up as one, drawing out weapons. Castiel's arm lowered as he stared at the figure lounging at the top of the rock, looking down at them.

“Crowley...?” he said in disbelief. “What....what are you doing here?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you three the exact same thing,” Crowley said, hopping down.

“You first,” Dean said, raising his chin.

Crowley regarded him, head to to the side.

“OK, I was planning on entering the Cage, using it's still-open conduit to Stull Cemetery, and freeing Rowena....you?”

Castiel, Dean and Sam stared at him blankly, jaws slightly agape.

Crowley looked back and forth between them. “Wait...oh...oh  _no_ ....” he grunted, closing his eyes and sighing. “No, no, don't tell me. You had the exact same plan, didn't you?” He shook his head. “I am getting so damned un-original in my old-age.”

“Yeah, well, what? You were planning on taking them out all by yourself there, chuckles?” Dean shot back.

Crowley looked up at him and gave him a tight smile. “As if you could do better?”

“Well, a hell of a lot better than you going solo....” Dean sputtered.

Sam held up a hand, interjecting. “Actually, Crowley, we were hoping on avoiding any kind of direct confrontation. This was going to be a simple snatch-n-grab.”

Crowley nodded.

Sam sighed. “But, as you can see for yourself, we ran into a little hitch,” he said, nodding towards the Demon horde guarding the Cage.

“Yeah, strange that,” Crowley answered, frowning and looking around the rock at the Demons. “What are they doing there I wonder?”

“We were kinda hoping that you could tell us,” Dean answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Buggered if I know,” Crowley muttered, reaching into his jacket. “Doesn't matter, I came prepared.”

He pulled out a large oaken staff with a slight curve a the top and held it out in front of him, staring down it's length in admiration.

Castiel gasped and moved forward, eyes wide. “Crowley.....is that....?”

Crowley looked up. “Hm? Oh, yes....it is. Moses' staff,” he answered, turning and hoping back up to the top of the rock, staff held out in front of him.

“ _Where did you get that_ ?”, Castiel sputtered.

“Oh, it's on loan from the remaining Council of Heaven,” Crowley answered nonchalantly. “Now, how does this thing work exactly....?” he muttered, turning it over. “Ah, I see....” he held it out in front of him and the staff began to hum and glow with a slight white light.

“Um....Crowley....sorry to interrupt here....but, don't they  _hate_ you?” Sam asked, frowning.

“Yeah, well, I promised to do something for them....I am a salesman, after all....” he answered, closing his eyes and scrunching up his face. “Now, if you don't mind, this requires more than a little bit of concentration here to work correctly....”

“Crowley.... _what_ did you promise them?” Castiel asked, obvious anger seeping into his tone.

Crowley sighed. “Nothing, really. Just....”

“ _What_ ?”

“.....to turn Rowena over to them once I have her,” Crowley said, voice just above a whisper. The glow from the staff began to grow brighter and brighter.

“You  _what_ ?!” Sam, Dean and Castiel yelled simultaneously. “Crowley!” Sam continued alone. “Crowley, you  _can't_ .....they'll  _kill_ her!”

“Yes, I suppose that they will....” Crowley answered.

“Well, we won't let you do it,” Castiel said warningly. “Once we have Rowena back, she's coming back with us.”

“Well, we'll just have to see about that then, won't we?” Crowley said, a wicked grin spreading on his face. “You know, Moses, being a mere human, was only able to manage a few plagues out of this thing here and there, all at random intervals. I wonder....” he continued, his brow furrowing in deep concentration. “....I wonder what would happen if I released several of them all at once?”

The staff let out a loud shriek, and several hundred Demons turned to the sound with alarm. Suddenly, they all started staring down at themselves in confusion. Even from a distance, Sam, Dean and Castiel could see blisters and boils forming all over their skin. The entire group of them began howling in pain and fury.

Then Sam looked up when a loud buzzing sound came to his ears and the sky began to darken considerably.

A gigantic wave of locusts descended from the sky and slammed into Demons with the force of a hurricane. The Demons began swatting and running away from them, often running into their comrades or striking them violently, knocking them to the ground.

At about that time, a loud croaking sound joined the cacophony, and it began to rain frogs down upon the Demon army – so thick that within seconds it became impossible to see a thing. The only other indistinguishable sound was the screeching and cursing of thousands of Demons.

Crowley, smiling, turned to look at all of them.

“Did you  _really think_ that the three of you, armed only with a couple of blades and your rugged plaid shirts, were going to go up against seven new Arch-Angels and the Angel and the Demon all by yourselves?” He shook his head. “That's  _exactly_ why I decided to go off on my own here, fellas. At least I think ahead. Now,” he said holding out a hand at the scene of pure chaos below. “Shall we?”

“You want to go down through  _that_ ?” Castiel asked, pointing. “Crowley, you just made it worse....”

“That's the good thing about this staff, see?” Crowley said, pointing it away from himself without looking over and at the milling Demons. “All the extras.”

An invisible wave of force shot out from the staff with a near sonic-boom, spreading along the ground like a wave. As it met the Demons, locust and frogs, it split them down the middle like an enormous zipper, flinging them to either side and into the air as if they were made of confetti. In just seconds, there was a wide, clear path leading up to the Cage's entrance, thirty foot high walls of writhing Demons, amphibians and insects held back from that path by unseen walls.

“Now, as I was saying....shall we?” Crowley's smile widened.

Dean, a flabbergasted expression on his face, blinked, silently acknowledged Crowley and strode forward. Sam shook his head and followed. Castiel stopped beside him, gave him a nod of approval, and also walked away down the path,

Crowley watched them go, then started walking down towards the Cage himself.

“You're quite welcome,” he said quietly, shrugging his shoulders in his jacket.

 

***

 

“Where's the Book?!” Sarah screamed, slamming a Demon henchman aside as he rushed her. She was careful not to kill him, as she had spotted Leon earlier in the melee, and the last thing she needed was some fast-multiplying zombie horde getting in her way.

The other Heralds had spread out across Crowley's offices and were methodically trying to locate the Book of the Damned. Sarah had briefly looked out one of the office windows down on to the street below during the fight.

It had been like a scene out of Hell itself.

Every single emergency and police vehicle was flipped over or onto it's side and was burning, the black smoke so thick that is was blotting out the sun. Bodies law strewn and bleeding all over the street, not even a trace of movement visible. SWAT-Team members hung lifeless and dangling from their rappelling ropes from the building rooftops, spinning slowly in the air in a gruesome circle. The Angel and Demon were no longer in sight.

“I asked 'WHERE'?!” she growled, lifting up a Demon by the throat. He gurgled out a curse and Sarah threw him to the side with disgust.

“Angela! Robert! Find anything yet?!” she called out, scanning around the hallway. She frowned and stalked down to the next intersection. “Milo? Stephen?” she called, hearing.....nothing. Her frown deepened. There was no longer any sound of fighting. She felt a cold shiver of worry down her spine and hurried down the smoky hall to the next intersection. Ahead of her, she saw all four of the other Heralds in the next hall, standing still in front of a door.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, stalking towards them. “Didn't you hear me? I've been screaming out for....”

She stopped short as she got closer. The other Heralds....they were not  _moving_ . They stood as still as statues. As she got closer, she could see that their expressions were strained, and they were sweating, their muscles slightly quivering, as if struggling against an unseen force.

“Guys....?” she asked quietly, inching closer. She looked up at the shield on the wall indicating the room's name that they were all gathered in front of. It read 'Library'.

She reached the door and looked inside.

And found that she could no longer move an inch.

 

***

 

The Angel and Demon strode through the emptied halls of Crowley's office, stepping over the occasional prone body to reach the spot where the Heralds were frozen. The Angel looked at his brother and sighed.

“Shall we?”

The Demon nodded slightly, and they moved around the Heralds to look into the room.

Standing there clutching the Book of the Damned and glaring at the two in anger, was Charlie Bradbury. Standing next to her with his hands in his pockets was Chuck Shurley. He shook his head at them.

The Angel stopped short, flinching back, staring at Charlie. “Two of you....?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, well, manifesting on earth and all, and posing as a prophet....”

“....it's actually much easier to split up that much raw power,” Chuck finished her sentence, leveling his eyes meaningfully at them. “But hey, you guys would know all about managing all of that power by now, wouldn't you?”

The Demon looked back and forth between them....”Father...er.....Mother....” he shook his head. “OK, I am actually confused now. Which one of you is God?”

Charlie tilted her head. “We both are,” she said. “At the same time. What's there to understand?”

The Angel grimaced. “It doesn't matter. You know why we're here.”

Chuck squared his shoulders, lifting his chin. “No, enlighten me, son.”

The Angel visibly trembled at that. “Don't....CALL ME THAT!” he shrieked, taking a warning step forward. Blue smoke began billowing from his hand. “What kind of a parent were you?! How many millenia had you ignored me?! And then, and then....what you let happen to me....?!! You have NO RIGHT TO CALL ME THAT ANYMORE!!” he screamed, tears of rage and pure emotion running down his face. The room shook.

Chuck and Charlie looked around at the shaking walls and then back at the Angel who stood there quivering.

“Is that how we're going to do this?” Charlie asked quietly, but defiantly.

The Angel closed his eyes, speaking. “Release our Heralds, and give us that damnable Book.”

“Or what?”

The Angel's eyes sprang open, they flashed from red to blue, from white to black, smoke pouring from them. “You know what kind of power I wield now....” he growled. He looked back at the Demon. “What we both wield,” he continued, turning back to face them. “Would you risk the consequences of a fight?”

Chuck lowered his head, shaking it. “You would destroy yourself if you did that. And in the process, you'd take the entire Universe with you. You know that.”

The Angel sighed and dropped his shoulders. He took a few steps forward until he was standing directly in front of Chuck and Charlie. He opened his eyes. Chuck and Charlie both flinched back from the pure hatred that burned there.

“At least I know that I'd take you with me,” he hissed.

“Whoah, whoah, _whoah there_ , cowboys....!” the Demon said, coming forward, palms out. “Look, let's...let's not do anything rash, OK? Nothing that everyone here is going to regret. “ He paused, tilting his head. “Or not regret, I get a little fuzzy with that whole 'never existing' thing.... _anyway_....” he continued, pushing himself bodily between the Angel and Chuck and Charlie.

“....look, we both know that you are all about that 'free-will' thing, and that non-interference Prime-Directive thing, right?” He waited for a response from Charlie and Chuck, but receiving none, shook his head. “Doesn't matter. You do. We know it, you know it. So, just hand over the Book, and let Fate do it's thing. If we're destined to win, then....well....then we're destined to win. And not even you can do anything about it. So, since we all know that Mr. Seriously-Unhinged here behind me is willing to toss the whole thing out the window, let's just skip to the chase, shall we? C'mon folks. For old times sake?”

Chuck squinted. “What do you mean by that?”

The Demon narrowed his eyes at them, a sarcastic and utterly bitter grin coming to his face. “Oh, like you've never used me to advance your agenda before.”

The silence hung heavy in the air for a long time before Chuck and Charlie both looked away.

“Yeah. Yeah. That's what I thought,” the Demon said, reaching out and pulling the Book of the Damned gently out of Charlie's hands. “Wish us luck, folks.”

The Angel and the Demon began to walk out of the library.

“You won't win,” Charlie said quietly.

The Angel stopped, not looking back at them. “If you are talking about what you did to our Heralds, don't bother. We already know.”

“Doesn't matter,” Chuck said, a tight-smile appearing on his face. “You can't stop it.”

At that , the Angel turned his head, looking halfway over his shoulder at them.

“No, Father. No, not this time....this time free-will fails.”

With that, the Angel and Demon and their five Heralds vanished in a loud but invisible flutter of Angel wings.

Chuck sighed and looked over at Charlie.

“They know,” he said, shaking his head.

Charlie smiled tightly. “It's all right. We did the best we could. It's our cards against theirs now. All hands on the table. Ultimate Magic: The Gathering.”

Chuck looked out of the door at where the group had disappeared.

“I hope it's enough. I really do.”

 


	6. More Questions?

#  _More_ Questions?

“Well, well, what happened in here?” Crowley grumbled, running a finger along a wooden desk that had been shoved roughly up against a wall hard enough to break and bend several of the planks making it up. He held his finger up to Castiel, finger dripping with blood and raised his eyebrows in question. Castiel shuddered slightly and looked around the room.

When Castiel, Crowley, Sam and Dean had entered the Cage, they had found themselves in a dark, stone corridor, dripping greasy, dirty, pungent water. There was a feeling of....emptiness there – as if once the place had been rife with energy and activity, and then it had been suddenly and inexplicably vacated – leaving a sort of buzzing in the air. The four had pressed on, seeking the portal to the cemetery, working down the winding passageways until they had opened up onto the room that they had found themselves in now.

It was a living quarters, of a kind. The space was laid out a bit like a New York loft apartment, with a central living area and several rooms set up off of it. It was gaudy in places, with antique – but rather disturbing – oil paintings depicting hunting scenes or various motives of human suffering. There were also ivory statues and golden fixtures – lamps and writing utensils. In contrast, there was also a shabbiness to the room, discarded clothing rumpled in corners, rotting fruit in a tarnished bowl set atop a dilapidated and broken harpsichord shoved into a corner, even the scuttling of rat's feet across the wooden floor and evidence of their droppings all over the place.

What was truly horrifying was that the room was also drenched in several patterns and pools of blood, both fresh and dry. Gore literally dripped continuously from the chandeliers and light fixtures.

Sam was looking around and shivering slightly. Dean noticed this and walked over to him.

“You OK?”

Sam blinked and shook his head. “Yeah....yeah...I'm all right I guess,” Sam answered brushing his hair back with one hand. “Well, one things for sure, this is definitively his place.”

“'His'.... as in...?”

Sam puffed out a breath. “Yep, that one.” He turned and moved over to the writing desk and started shifting through a stack of papers that were strewn across it, some fallen to the floor.

“Spent enough time with him to recognize his particular....style in decor,” he muttered, grunting as he squinted at the papers in the dim lighting. Castiel and Crowley moved over behind him as he started shuffling through the reams of paper more and more quickly, building to a feverish pace.

“It's.....” Sam whispered.

“Enochian,” Castiel finished. “And that's Lucifer's handwriting.”

Crowley frowned, picking up another sheet. “ _This_ is Enochian?” he asked, turning the sheet around in his hands and squinting at it. “Sorry, I may not be completely fluent in it, but this does not look like Enochian to me....” He squinted harder. “As a matter of fact, it looks like the writing on....”

“Angel tablets,” Sam finished, shaking his head and looking up at Castiel.

“It's original Enochian,” Castiel said, picking up another sheet with a sense of reverence. “Before it was passed on to the Angels....” he looked up at Sam quizzically. “The Men of Letters can recognize this?”

Sam swallowed and nodded. “There are some limited examples of it....very limited,” he answered, scanning over the pages. “We were able to put together a rudimentary working alphabet – but this....this is....”

“Beautiful,” Castiel whispered. “It's the language of Creation itself. Song and Verse before it ever got....diminished.”

“Wait a minute, how are we even able to read this?” Dean asked. “Don't you need a Prophet or something to read it?”

“It wasn't written by Metatron acting as the Voice of God,” Castiel answered. “This is sort of like.....unencrypted Enochian,” he answered, continuing to turn through the pages carefully until he stopped, leaning back, a look of shock on his face.

“Something?” Crowley asked.

“It's....it's the Key.....” Castiel muttered in disbelief.

“Key? What Key?” Crowley asked.

“The Song....the Key....the one Joshua Vandecourte used to open Purgatory for the third time....here it is, written down....”

“Wait just a minute, you mean the one only an Archangel would possess?”

Castiel nodded.

“So that's where they got it....”

“There's something else,” Castiel said quietly.

“Do tell?” Crowley asked impatiently.

“The Song is not written in Lucifer's handwriting.”

There was a long silence as everyone watched him expectantly.

“Well?!” Crowley exclaimed, breaking the eerie silence and causing them all to jump a bit.

“Oh....sorry, as I was saying, it's not Lucifer's handwriting, it's Michael's.”

“Now just hold on a minute here....” Crowley answered, holding a palm up in disbelief. “The Michael that Lucifer destroyed and consumed?”

Castiel nodded. “He must have wrote it down during his imprisonment here.”

“For what purpose?” Crowley asked.

Castiel continued to shift through the papers. “It looks like the same purpose that our current enemies are pursuing – to open the gate beyond Purgatory and release The Original Evil; the Darkness, the Serpent, the Old Ones,” he shook his head. “Whatever you actually want to name it.” He frowned, arranging the papers. “Open that gate and seize that power for themselves, flipping the Universe on it's back. Becoming the new Gods.”

“Yeah, how does that work exactly?” Dean asked, moving around to look at the papers himself. He picked one up and squinted at it, then let it fall back to the desk, shaking his head.

“Well, according to this, they have to mirror all of the energies - Creation and Darkness – where's there's a God, there has to be something on the other side equally as powerful to balance it....” he frowned, confused. “But, that's not what the Angel and the Demon are doing at all....”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “What ar _e_ they doing then?”

“As far as I can see, they're trying to replace God with themselves, just like Michael and Lucifer were going to do,” Castiel answered grimly. “But instead of just taking over, the Angel and Demon's Creation is going to be....some kind of merger of Darkness and Light.” He flipped another page, reading faster. “Basically like what they did fusing Angel and Demon energy and becoming hybrids themselves.”

“So, what happens to us regular old garden-variety humans?” Dean asked.

Castiel closed his eyes. “Remember when we told you what Vandecourte was doing back in New Orleans?”

Dean blinked. “You mean – that weird mating ritual where....?”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Exactly.”

Dean took a step back. “Oh. Oh that's just great,” he muttered. “So, everyone would get mated to one of these things and make a whole new race of....what? Hybrids?”

Castiel nodded again. “One that a God wielding the power of both Light and Darkness could rule over absolutely. Without question. Total loyalty. The actual humans, or whatever's left of them, would be like batteries, their souls and fear and nightmares being drained to maintain this new.... _creation_ .” He stopped and took in a deep breath. “I saw a vision of that once. Back when I looked into Joshua Vandecourte's thoughts.”

Crowley breathed heavily and leaned back against a wall.

“So, that's why the Angel and Demon broke in here, isn't it? Somehow they found out about this original plan to overthrow Heaven, and destroyed Lucifer to g it. Then they adapted it for their own purposes,” Crowley said, considering. “So, we have new questions,  _besides_ who in the unholy hell these two wankers actually are, don't we? One: how did they find out about this plan – is there some kind of informant? A leak?, and two: where did they get the juice to kill Lucifer, of all beings?”

“Second parts easy,” Sam answered, clearing his throat. They all turned their eyes towards him. “Vanecourte,” he answered simply. “Didn't you say he was some kind of Old One God or something? They signed him on and then had all the power they ever needed.”

Crowley considered this, then nodded. “I suppose it's possible,” he mused, then shook his head.

“First part's easy too,” Dean spoke up. “There was one of their guy's working for you the whole damned time, Crowley.”

Crowley closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “Justin.”

Dean nodded. “And if I remember it right, he was in charge of monitoring the Cage also, correct? So these clowns could have come and gone anytime they wanted, and you would have never known it. Matter of fact, now that I think about it, it was Justin that called us away from here the last time.” He looked around at the confirmation of nods and continued. “Seems to me he really wanted to keep us out of this place. I'm also betting it was the Angel and Demon that were the ones that sent that little army out there to guard it now.”

““Nothing would surprise me at this point,” Crowley sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Bloody Demons. Anything else in there?”

“Actually....yes....” Castiel answered hesitantly.

“Oh, I can't wait...:” Crowley muttered.

Castiel looked up. “The secret of combining Angelic and Demonic power is here as well.”

Crowley's eyes opened wide in surprise.”Well now....”

Castiel nodded. “Lucifer wrote here about his initial breach into the Darkness and using the energy there to create Demons. It apparently involves actually letting the energy reside in you, combining itself in a perfect balance....on the 'Edge of Annihilation', he calls it here.”

“That's possible?” Crowley asked, dubious.

Castiel sighed. “It is extremely dangerous, but the evidence is right there in front of us. It requires splitting off a part of your power to keep it safe, pure. Splitting yourself up, so to say.” He frowned. “Not exactly unlike what Gabriel did to himself, actually. The Angel and Demon obviously figured it out as well, and now can wield both sides.”

Sam broke in, frowning. “So, Lucifer took this Darkness into himself in, what did you call it? 'a perfect balance?'” He stopped and paced away, pensive. “So....he wasn't an Archangel anymore after that, right?”

Castiel considered that and shook his head. “No, I suppose he wouldn't be, in the strictest sense.”

Sam nodded. “It all makes sense now, then.”

“Yeah, well, feel free to explain it to the rest of the class,” Dean muttered.

Sam smiled tightly. “It means that as he was no longer an Archangel, there were only six more protecting the Gate in Purgatory. That's why he destroyed Michael. To keep removing the Archangels from that Gate. It's what the Angel and Demon continued to do....the only thing is....”

“Yes?” Crowley prompted.

Sam looked up at him and Castiel. “Why kill Lucifer at all? If he wasn't an Archangel anymore, then that was not even necessary.”

“To steal and safeguard this information from him, obviously.” Crowley answered, waving his hand over Lucifer's notes. “Or do you think that he would have just handed it over to them willingly without a fight?”

Sam considered, frown deepening. “I....guess....” he muttered. “I just....I don't know, it still feels like we're missing something here, something right in front of our noses.”

“Yeah, like the portal to the cemetery,” Dean responded. “We need to get our asses in there and get Rowena out ASAP, remember? We can sit around and read over Lucy's diary later, if it's allright with you, but the more time we sit around here doing nothing, that's less time we have to stop those ass-clowns.”

Sam blinked and nodded. Castiel stuffed the pages into his trenchcoat. “I need to keep reading this,” Castiel muttered. “There might be a clue in here as to how to stop them.”

“Oh, I already _know_ how to stop them,” Dean said, waving his nickel-plated .357 in the air. “The trick is to get them cornered, then Sam's special ammunition will do the rest.”

Castiel looked down at the floor, considering.

Dean sighed. “What is it Cas?”he asked.

“It's just, I can't stop thinking about the prophecie's first warning – about you two staying out of this....there's a danger here that we're not paying attention to.”

“Yeah, well, I think we did enough damage already, Cas. There aren't any more Archangels to worry about....well, except for Gabriel, but he's on lock-down.”

Castiel looked up, still obviously uncomfortable. “Dean....I hope you're right, because I think we can....no, I think we _need_ your help here. But it's like your brother said....there's something we're missing. Something big.”

Dean nodded. “I hear ya.” He sighed again and looked around. “Look, man, if you need us to ride the bench here, all you gotta do is say the word and we'll head back to Atlanta.”

Castiel looked away and let his shoulders drop. “Ever since we've started this, we've made one wrong decision after another.”

Dean tilted his head. “You think this is another one?”

Castiel looked up. “I can't tell anymore. And that's what frightens me the most.”

Dean smiled tightly and clapped the Angel on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, you do this job long enough, you kind of get that feeling all the time.”

“We won't get another chance if we get this wrong,” Castiel mumbled in reply. “No offense Dean, but this isn't a Rougaroo hunt. The stakes are much higher.”

Dean nodded at him and patted his shoulder. “Been there too. Doesn't matter. You just do the best that you can and put a lot into....well....”

“Faith?”

Dean smiled again and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that'll do. C'mon Cas, let's get out of here. We got work to do.” He then turned and moved over to where Sam and Crowley were at a back door to the living area, leading off into more tunnels.

Castiel watched him go, the nagging feeling of dread not diminishing in the slightest.

 


	7. Free Will or Bust

# Free Will or Bust

“Kings?” Gabriel asked, staring intently over his hands across the table at Jesse Turner. The other ex-Heralds Leon, Kinsey and David watched with equal interest as the silence stretched on.

Jesse smiled and shook his head slightly, scanning what he was holding before looking up at the last remaining Archangel.

“Nope. Go fish,” he replied, grinning.

Gabriel muttered something and started drawing cards into his hand. “I don't believe it....”

“Believe it capper, and you owe me now,” Jesse grinned.

Gabriel sighed. “No, I think I mean something else.”

“What's that then?”

Gabriel let his cards fall to the table. “That I can't _believe_ that we're sitting here playing cards when the world is about to end!” He glanced up at the Demon guard who was patrolling along the inside of the car dealership, taking periodic glances out of the window and whispering into his headpiece. “Hey, you, sunglasses!” The guard stopped and looked over.

“Can I do something for you?”

Gabriel smiled tightly. “Yeah. We haven't heard a darned thing since we got stashed here, how's about you coming over here and filling us in on current events?”

The guard frowned, then shrugged. “Because there isn't anything that you need to know,” he answered briskly before turning back to his rounds.

Gabriel let out a huff of frustration, then stood up from his chair at the table. The Demon turned back to him and raised an eyebrow in question.

“You are aware that I could blast you into the nether world, right?” Gabriel asked, cocking his head. “Wouldn't even be hard for me. Hell, it might even make me smile.”

The Demon considered this for a second and then shook his head. “No you won't,” he answered, saying something else into his microphone.

“And why not?”

The guard sighed and looked back at Gabriel. “Because then you'd have to do the boring-ass job of watching the perimeter yourself.”

Gabriel cocked his head, then sat back down, nodding. “He's not wrong, you know....” he mumbled, leaning back and placing his hands behind his head. “Still....” he looked back to the guard. “When was the last time you heard from your boss?”

The guard sighed. “No one's heard from Mr. Crowley since his argument with your pal, Castiel. You know that.”

“He didn't go back to his office?”

The guard shook his head. “Unlikely.”

“Why?”

The guard sighed again, more loudly this time. “You're not going there.”

Gabriel looked at him, confused. “And what makes you think that I'd even _want_ to do that?”

The guard walked over and stood over the table, looking at Gabriel. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

Gabriel's mouth twisted into a half-smile. “Probably.”

The guard considered this for a minute, then nodded. “Worth a shot. Look, no one's heard jack from Atlanta because it came under attack this afternoon. Crowley wasn't there.”

“What?!” Gabriel exclaimed, standing up suddenly. “Attacked? Attacked by who?”

“Who do you think?”

Gabriel frowned. “They must have been after the Book....did they get it?”

The guard shook his head. “Unconfirmed. The office was more or less destroyed.”

Gabriel sat down heavily. “Well that's just great! And you didn't feel the need to fill us in on this, why?”

“Our instructions are simple; under no circumstances are you to leave this safe-house. There was no reason for you to know. There's nothing left in the Atlanta office anyway.”

“Chuck and Charlie were still there,” Kinsey said softly. “Trying to decipher the Book. Has anyone heard from them?”

The guard glanced at her and shook his head. “That's a negative. They were nowhere to be seen. No bodies, either. They either escaped, or were kidnapped.”

Gabriel groaned and closed his eyes. “Yeah....yeah....you know, that actually  _does_ fall into the realm of important information that we need to know....” He looked up dangerously at the guard and scanned the ex-Heralds appraisingly, deciding something. “OK, that's it, let's go.”

The guard stiffened. “I can't let you....”

“Go, go where?” Jesse asked, ignoring the guard's protests.

“To see if we can find those two,” Gabriel answered. “And that Book.”

“Sir! I'm afraid I cannot allow you to....”

“Won't that leave you exposed?” Kinsey asked. “That's very, very risky, Gabriel.”

Gabriel crossed an arm over his chest and tapped his chin quickly with one finger. “You think they did this to draw me out?” He leaned back. “I mean, I'm the last  _guardian_ of the Gate, operative word here being 'guardian', and here I am stuck on standby. I mean, I am an Archangel, you know?”

“And they have  _seven_ of them now,” Lindsey answered smoothly. “Not to mention the Angel and Demon themselves - if that is what you can even call them anymore - wielding the power of Heaven and Hell....those are long odds for one lone Archangel.”

“If you could all just sit back down....”

Gabriel frowned, holding up a finger. “Newly minted Archangels, chicka, newly-minted. I've been doing this for more millenia than you can even fathom. I was there when God trapped the Darkness, I was in the leading charge against the armies of Lucifer as he stormed Heaven's Gate....the actual Gate, I should mention, not that god-awful movie....I can take out more than my fair share of these newbs before they even knew what hit them. Plus, you guys know their moves, right?”

“Sir!! If you could _please_ sit back down!!”

“It's a good strategy,” David agreed, nodding. “You're right - we're left with very little choice here. Crowley is MIA, and Castiel and the Winchesters are deep into the Cage by now. There's literally no one else to mount a rescue.”

Gabriel nodded in agreement. “We have to risk it,” he said, eyeballing Jesse. “You're a Muggle now, kid, maybe you should stay here.”

Jesse shook his head. “No way. I'm no hero, but I'm not a coward either.”

The Demon guard touched his earpiece and began to talk into it rapidly. “Beta-Zero, I'm going to need immediate back-up....”

Gabriel waved his hand and the guard flew across the room and slammed into a Yugo with frightening force, crushing it's side and shattering its windows. He slumped to the ground unconscious.

“Oh....oops,” Gabriel said, grimacing in mock embarrassment. “Didn't mean to do that so hard.”

“It wasn't all that hard, besides, he's a Demon, I'm sure he's fine,” Leon muttered.

“No, I mean....poor cheap car....” Gabriel said, looking up before beaming at them all. “C'mon, let's blow this joint.”

 

***

 

Angela watched the backs of the Angel and Demon uncomfortably and shifted to look back at Sarah, who was striding into the Stull Graveyards entrance, clutching the Book of the Damned to her chest, a proud smile on her face.

“Let me see that,” Angela said holding out her hand to her. Sarah looked down at her hand and back up at Angela and frowned.

“What for?”

Sarah tilted her head. “I want to see the spell that the witch is casting.”

The Angel turned his head slightly back at that and slowed his pace.

Sarah gave Angela a lop-sided, defiant smile and held the Book tighter.

“I'll repeat my previous question, 'What for?'”

Angela stopped directly in front of her, causing Sarah to stop. Sarah practically snarled in warning.

“Because I....no, because  _all_ of us, have a right to know what we're doing here, Sarah.” Her right hand at her side closed into a fist, and white smoke began to curl up from it. “Don't make me ask again.”

“What is this?” the Angel said, moving just behind Angela.

Angela flinched, but did not back down. She turned her head to address him. “What are we, Master? Slaves?” She turned fully to him, unafraid. “Slaves make really crap soldiers, from what I've read. What harm can it possibly do to know what the plan is?”

“Oh, I've found that even a little bit of forbidden knowledge can be a  _very_ bad thing,” the Demon answered, moving over to join the conversation. The rest of the Heralds had stopped as well, and had formed a semi-circle around the group, watching in interest. The Demon glanced around, then narrowed his eyes and looked back to Angela. “Why is it so important to you all of a sudden?”

“Maybe I'm tired of being used as a mindless tool, my Lord,” Angela answered defiantly. She looked around. “And I don't think I'm the only one, either.” Robert nodded in agreement. Milo cocked his head, curious. Stephen folded his arms over his chest and looked on silently.

The Angel glanced around at them and sighed, looking at his brother. “How do you want to handle this, brother?”

The Demon scratched his chin, pensive. “This is what we knew already, isn't it? Father's handywork?”

The Angel nodded. “I'm sure of it. All the hallmarks of pure free will.” He shook his head. “I haven't the time nor the inclination to start over with new Heralds.”

“Not to mention the lack of raw power to make anymore of them in the first place,” the Demon added. “Jesse Turner is tapped out.” He sighed. “We're stuck with it. Rotten fruit or nothing.” He shrugged and grabbed the Book out of Sarah's grasp easily. She gasped in protest and glowered at Angela. He handed the Book over to her with a nonchalant flip. “Here ya go, sugar. Knock yourself out.” He looked around. “But do me a favor, make it quick, will ya? We're on a schedule.”

Angela nodded and flipped over the Book, flipping it quickly to last pages where the Angel and Demon had indicated a spell for Rowena. Robert had moved to look over her shoulder, Milo and Stephen as well. Sarah stood petulantly off to the side and kicked randomly at the dirt on the ground. The Angel and the Demon stood off to the side of them, arms crossed, observing.

“Can we even read that?” Robert asked.

Angela shook her head. “Not the spells themselves, they're coded, I just want the title....” she frowned, reading. Then she looked up at the Angel and Demon. “A summoning spell? A simple summoning? Who or what are we summoning, Masters?”

The Demon held up a finger. “That's no 'simple' summoning spell, my dear. That is a particularly good one. All-encompassing, so to say.”

Angela frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning it ignores things like spells and wards used to hide a person or entity from detection, it finds them regardless of where they are, or what's been done to protect them. It destroys said wards, and all related defenses, rendering them useless.”

“Gabriel,” Angela answered, closing the Book slowly. “You're going to summon the last Archangel.”

The Demon simply smiled in response.

“It's not like we are expecting him to just come to us, now, is it?”

 

***

 

Castiel, Crowley, Dean and Sam moved deeper into the Cage. Sam shuddered. He remembered.....he  _remembered_ .....

Lucifer and Michael....Lucifer was furious....so furious.....at first not even comprehending that someone as 'mortal and insignificant' as Sam Winchester could have bested him. His 'punishments' were swift and painful, eviscerating and smashing Sam's seemingly mortal form over and over and over again until there came a point where Sam didn't even know if there had been anything else in his existence but fire and blood and pain.

That had been the easiest part.

When it....slowed down....when Lucifer had begun to torture not just his body, but his mind, Sam remembered the false hopes, the decayed and malformed love, the endless darkness that Lucifer imposed on him until his mind broke....only to be restored so he could begin again.

Lucifer had not been happy.

Michael had been much, much  _worse_ .

Once it dawned on him that he was to be trapped for eternity in the Cage with his cast-out brother, he had snapped, blaming Sam as well. He worked with his brother to torture and destroy him, raging the entire time about how unfair it all had been, how he had merely sought to save the best of humanity. He, at last, had recognized his Father's hand in showing Sam the memories of love and commitment - that stupid, small detail - that army figured jammed into a space in the Impala – the small bit of love and detail that had given Sam the strength to beat Lucifer.

Eventually, he turned on Lucifer, blaming him for being too weak to win, for once again facing down the wrath of God and losing, this time dragging him along with it - they were mortal enemies after all. Their battles shook the foundations of the reality that was the Cage, but at least it gave Sam brief respites from the endless torture.

After a time, Michael vanished. He had descended farther and farther into madness until finally, it had consumed him. Lucifer returned to Sam and resumed his ministrations then, also bragging about how the great Michael had been reduced to a 'mewling kitten drooling and singing to himself in a corner'. He had won. He bragged about what he would end up eventually doing to Michael later - destroying him and absorbing his power.

Sam shuddered.

“Hey man, you OK?” Dean's voice broke through the paralyzing memory.

Sam blinked and tried to take a breath. It burned and he coughed harshly.

“Yeah, yeah, it's....this place....” Sam answered, waving his hand in the air. “I'll be allright.” He forced a tight, fake smile onto his face and looked up at his brother. “Hey, I beat this before, I can beat it again.”

Dean looked worried and unconvinced. “Yeah well, we'll be out of here soon....” he looked up at Castiel who had stopped and was also watching Sam, obvious concern on his face. “Right?”

Castiel let out a breath and nodded. “I....I think so. We need to find a link....something that was used to create the original portal.”

“Like what?” Dean asked.

“I think, actually, that this may be what he's talking about....” came Crowley's gravelly voice from around the corner. He stuck his head around and pointed in that direction. “Maybe you all want to come take a look at this?”

Sam willed himself to move forward and Dean walked along behind him. They turned the corner in the tunnel to where Crowley was standing and stopped short, staring.

In front of them on the stone wall were faintly glowing runes, shaped like the assembled rings of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Crowley walked over to them and touched them. As soon as his hand reached them, the runes glow intensified, casting a reddish tone. He looked back at them and raised an eyebrow, moving away.

Castiel moved to the runes and then touched them as well. They began to glow a soft blue, reminiscent of the sky. He watched them glow then removed his hand, looking back at them shaking his head.

“I don't understand....nothing's happening,” Castiel said. “Shouldn't there be a portal opening now or something?”

Sam moved closer and squinted. He touched the wall, but there was no change in the light this time. “Let's try something....” he mumbled. He looked back to Castiel and Crowley. “Both of you, touch the runes at the same time.”

Castiel looked dubious. “Are you implying that only a Demon and an Angel working together can activate the Portal and escape the Cage?”

Sam shrugged. “We won't know unless we try it....”

Crowley shrugged and moved forward, slapping his hand on the wall. The runes immediately began to glow fire-red again. “If it means getting out of here, I'm game for anything at this point.” He looked back at Castiel and raised his eyebrows. “Coming, darling?”

Castiel glowered and sighed, but moved to the wall anyway. “The sooner all of this is over, the better.” He placed his hand on the runes next to Crowley's. “I don't even  _care_ if they destroy the universe at this point....” he added petulantly.

The runes exploded with light. The four of them turned away quickly in the sudden flash of luminescence, shielding their eyes.

There was a rumbling sensation, then a rush of cold, empty air, pulling away from them.

They looked up and saw a whirling Portal where the runes had been. On the other side was the grassy field of Stull Cemetery.

Crowley smiled and took a step back.

“Gentlemen, we have arrived.”

Castiel lowered his head and dropped his Angel's Blade into his hand.

“Let's roll.” he said, striding through the Portal, trenchcoat billowing out behind him. Crowley pulled out his own Angel Blade, Dean and Sam their modified pistols, and the three of them followed him through.

 


	8. Game....

# Game....

Gabriel exhaled slowly, letting out a low whistle. “Wow....some one really screwed the pooch....” he muttered.

Spread out in front of him were multiple barricades leading to Crowley's office building on Peachtree. Police and rescue vehicle lights saturated the twilight sky like some kind of insane psychedelic light show. Residual smoke still slowly billowed out of the 13th floor window where Crowley's office was. A large crowd of onlookers and reporters had gathered outside of the area, the general consensus being that some kind of massive terrorist attack had taken place. The police had set up a temporary podium to hold news conference updates. Gabriel worked his way over to that area to try to listen in, Leon, David, Jesse and Kinsey in tow.

“....will not at this time speculate as to the nature or motivation of this attack. We would like to emphasize that the incident has apparently run it's course, but we would ask you to indulge us by keeping your distance while we sort out the details of what has actually happened here,” the police spokesman was saying. The man looked haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his uniform was stained with sweat.

When he stopped speaking, there was a roar of indecipherable questions from the various media sources. The spokesman sighed visibly and held up a hand.

“Please, please, you guys all know the drill. One at a time, and I'll call on you. Raise your hands and keep it quiet.”

The roar dulled down to a low rumble, and the spokesman nodded and pointed into the crowd. “You, CNN, hit me.”

A pretty, serious looking young woman straightened up as a microphone extended itself further over her shoulder from her cameraman. “Thank you Lieutenant Ekleberry. Do you have any actual figures, or even estimates, as to the loss of life?”

There was a murmur of agreement from the reporter's pool at the question. The Lieutenant gripped his podium a little more tightly, his head slightly lower.

“We cannot speculate at the time as to...”

He was cut off as the roar of questions re-ensued. He lowered his head and looked away before looking back at the crowd, anger and frustration now building in his eyes.

“Look, what did I just say?! One at a damned time!!” he shouted. The reporters were surprised at the outburst, and it quieted down almost instantly.

He drew a shaky hand over his forehead and muttered something to himself. “I....I apologize....look, it should probably be mentioned now, instead of coming out later....but, this is a very, very difficult time here for everyone involved. And I do mean everyone. Among the suspected casualties are....” he paused and took a deep breath. “...several members of the local police and fire departments.”

Some shouting came out from the reporters, but it seemed to be the same question of 'how many'?”

Lieutenant Ekleberry nodded. “Several. We can't say at this point as to exactly how many. Several is all that I can tell you. That....and, also, that this day will be....marked, I'm afraid....as one of the most tragic days in the history of law enforcement. So, I would ask you for your respect, and your indulgence as we sort this out....”

He was cut off from a shout in the back. “Allan Jarais, News-Wars, why are you deliberately hiding the fact that the perpetrator or perpetrators of this attack were, in fact, Muslims?”

The pool of reporters grew quiet, their faces screwed up as if they suddenly had smelled something foul in the air. Lieutenant Ekleberry blinked at the reporter and shook his head slowly.

“You are such an unbelievable idiot....” he mumbled and left the podium.

The reporters began talking into their cameras and to their respective crews, the noise an indecipherable cacophony. Gabriel worked his way over to where the News-Wars correspondent was now talking to his cameraman.

“...so, you heard it here first folks, live from the scene and unedited, the police absolutely hiding their secret agenda of promoting Islamic extremism by refusing to identify the possible Muslims that most definitely carried out this attack....”

Gabriel frowned and leaned over towards David, whispering into his ear. “You can read this guys mind, right?”

David scowled and lowered his eyebrows. “Yeah, sure, but I wouldn't recommend it.”

Gabriel nodded and smirked. “Bear with me kiddo, keep reading his mind....I want to conduct a little experiment here.” With that he clasped David's shoulder and motioned at Kinsey and then nodded at the cameraman. She nodded back in mute response and moved just behind him.

“....what the Mainstream Media is doing is ruining our country from the inside....” Allan Jarvais was saying as Gabriel moved past him, brushing his fingers over his temple.

“Hey, watch it pal!” Jarvais complained as Gabriel held up his hands apologetically. Jarvais shook his head. “Thugs from the Mainstream Media obviously, physically assaulting me and trying to keep the truth from being told....anyway....” He frowned and took a deep breath. “Anyway...you know what I really think? And hope, folks? I hope that this is exactly the kind of incident that leads to us finally being fed-up enough with Muslims, and I do actually mean all Muslims here, so that we can exterminate them from the face of the planet.” The cameraman jerked back and stared at Allan Jarvais, giving him a questioning look. Jarvais ignored it and kept on. “I mean, convert from their hideous religion of theirs or fire up the ovens and start burning these bastards alive!” he ranted. At this the cameramen looked truly alarmed, poking his head out from behind the lens and making the 'cut' sign over his throat frantically with his hand.

“Allan....you can't say that out  _loud_ ....for christsake, this is  _live_ , man....!” He went to lower the camera and shut it off, but a steel-like grip held his arm steady and another hand clamped itslef over his mouth. Kinsey whispered in his ear. “Don't change that dial, fella, he's on a roll, now.”

Allan Jarvais was sweating, having worked himself into a frenzy. “And after they're all nice and barbecued, then the Jews, and then the atheists and gays....and then hell, anyone else that gets in my damned way....shit, I can just keep making more crap up over and over again, because you morons in my audience out there will buy it no matter what I frikking say! You don't even care to fact read, you just skim the headlines, and as long as you  _think_ that you're on my 'side', you'll just buy it without question! That and my overpriced survival products....” He smiled and leaned into the camera. “Oh, it's gonna be a banner year, folks, I'm making millions on you sheep!”

Gabriel, grinning tightly, nodded towards Kinsey. “I think that's a wrap. Have a nice day, asshole.” Kinsey released the cameraman, who, hands shaking violently, shut off the camera and rushed over to Allan Jarvais.

“What the fuck, man??! You can't say that shit in _public_!! You just screwed us man. All of us!!”

Jarvais was shaking and pale. “I....I....couldn't stop....How do I spin this?” he was saying as Gabriel and the Ex-Heralds moved off. “....government mind-control device....yeah....that sells, right?”

Leon was smiling and shaking his head as they moved around the police barrier, looking for a place to sneak inside.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Gabriel asked.

Leon smiled. “Nah, nothin'. I mean, I'm glad someone finally got that dude to tell the truth for once, but he's just gonna slip out of it. Again. The sucker is Teflon.”

“He's only Teflon because people blindly believe that there are sides here,” Kinsey answered, looking around a corner of the adjacent building into an alley and waving everyone to her. “They have successfully divided people into belief factions, using terror and fear as the catalyst.” She shrugged. “It's exactly what the extremists wanted to do in the first place. Divide you, panic you, using as many coordinated attacks as possible to make it seem that they are coming from everywhere. A predator does the same thing. They threaten and separate the herd using attacks, unafraid that at any time that the herd could turn and easily trample them. Because, at that time, the individual members of the herd are so blinded by their own personal fear and terror; that they then form smaller, less protected factions as a response. In this case, anyone who looks to be any kind of outsider, or doesn't share their particular point of view is perceived as a threat or too weak to stand with the group. And then....”She moved into the alley and towards some rubble that had been unguarded. With an inhumanly powerful heave, she rolled a boulder-sized side of the building to the side, carefully settling it to make as little noise as possible. Behind it was a side-door leading to a maintenance hallway. With a jerk, she pulled it open and they all moved stealthily inside to the darkened hallway.

”Looks like the power's out....now, what was it that you were saying?” Leon asked when they were all in and moving towards the stairwell.

Kinsey nodded. “I was saying....the predator creates panic with as little effort as possible, the herd forms itself into smaller, divided factions, then the predator is free to isolate and kill the weaker parts. If it has panicked the herd enough, the herd will do its work for it, trampling and killing smaller members of it's own herd. A free meal for the predator.” She shrugged. “It doesn't take a genius to see what is happening here. But, since most people are so afraid of the predator at this point, they cannot see the big picture, or herd, anymore.”

David lowered his head. “You make it sound like it's all over....”

“It really isn't, “Gabriel answered, climbing the stairs, scouting ahead.

“Because?”

“Because, what our Kinsey, while her analogy is very intelligent, failed to mention here is that humans are particularly good predators as well. They're not just a big, dumb herd. And believe me, kiddo, I've seen it in my time more than once, when you push them hard enough, they put that predator side of theirs back together and push back.”

“So, there actually  _are_ sides here,” Leon stated, frowning and looking away. Gabriel stopped and looked at him, his face softening.

“Not like that that guy thinks there are, Leon, never like that.” He sighed. “Look, you humans are a pain in the butt sometimes, but strangely, I keep finding me and mine deeply involved in keeping you alive. You ever stop and ask yourself why that is?”

Leon shrugged.

“Because you're worth it. If I had to trade in all of the struggle and finger pointing and horrible in-fighting and fear against some of the experiences of joy and happiness and pure love and celebration of life that I've seen you humans also experience, I'd do it every time. That's what makes it great. Because it's hard. The hard is what makes it great.” He nodded and pointed up the stairwell. “It's just on the other side - Crowley's office.” He shook his head. “What burns my butt is you all work and fight and struggle to make things better, and along comes some super-powered Angel and Demon to wipe you all out....and I'll be damned if I sit back and let one of my kind wipe you out on my watch. That's what I'm all about today. You with me?”

They all nodded in agreement, and Gabriel nodded back, opening the door, moving into a rubble strewn side-hallway.

There were scorch marks on the wall, and the acrid smell of fire-retardant mixed with burnt drywall assaulted their nostrils. The occasional loose wire ripped from the wall lay in their path, but they didn't spark, as apparently the power had been cut off to the entire building. They heard the muffled conversation of firemen and police somewhere ahead of them in the direction of the lobby, but apart from that, the suite seemed empty.

Gabriel moved them around a corner into an empty conference room and gently closed the door.

“So, keep it down, obviously,” Gabriel said in a whisper. “We'll work along towards the library and see if we can spot any sign of Chuck, Charlie or the Book.”

They all nodded and stood up, moving back to the door.

“You don't need to bother,” a female voice said to them from behind.

They spun in fright and sudden shock, ready to fight. Charlie was standing in the corner of the room with her hands clasped in front of her, looking weary.

“Charlie...!” Gabriel said smiling, before a look of confusion passed over his face. “Wait....how did you, this room was empty, and this is the only door in or out....”

Charlie sighed and looked at him with smiling eyes. “Oh Gabriel, what are you doing here? You were supposed to be at the safe-house, weren't you?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at her warily. “You first....” he glanced at David, who was staring at Charlie. He looked at Gabriel and shrugged. “It's her....”

Charlie looked at David and frowned. “Stop that, of course it's me....and I'm sorry for this....”

“Sorry for what?” he asked before slumping to the floor gently alongside Leon, Jesse and Kinsey.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows in alarm. “Wait...what? Did you just....? Ok....h _ow_....?”

Charlie smiled tightly at him and shook her head. “So, here we go again....why do have to keep doing this? Why won't you ever just do what you're told to do?”

Gabriel, flummoxed, threw his hands into the air. “What are you even talking about??!!”  
There was a flash of divine Light from Charlie and Gabriel stopped, frozen. His jaw hung open and he dropped to his knees.

“God...?”

“'Fraid so,” Charlie answered, holding out her hands to her sides.

“Wha....like, this _whole time_...?”

“'Fraid so....”

Gabriel got up gingerly and titled his head at her.

“Why....didn't you tell me?”

Charlie shrugged. “Would you believe me if I told you we've already had this conversation this week?”

Gabriel frowned. “Actually yes,” he answered, considering. “That actually does sound very much like you.” He watched her for a moment and then realization came to his eyes. He wagged a finger at Charlie. “Did you....was it _you_ that erased my memory? And Jesse's?”

“Yep.”

“Mind telling me why?”

Charlie sighed. “Because you had discovered who the Angel and the Demon were. Jesse....Jesse, though....he was a side-effect of something else.

Gabriel shook his head, flabbergasted. “Wait....what?! You....took my memory of the identity of the Angel and Demon away because..... _why_? Why in the hell would you even do that?!”  
Charlie lowered her eyes at him, a hint of anger crossing her features. Gabriel swallowed hard.

“Um....no disrespect intended of course....” he added hastily .

Charlie nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot. “Uh-huh,” she said warningly and then exhaled. “Gabriel, the last time you figured out their identity, you followed them to Heaven and tried to confront them. You  _had_ to, it's in your nature, it's who you are. They captured Suriel, and you nearly got yourself killed.” She stared meaningfully at him. “You know that you are the last Archangel now, I seriously don't think I need to remind you what would happen if you wound up getting yourself killed now, do I?”

Gabriel frowned and moved his head back a bit. “That sounds....very non 'Free-Will' to me, Lord.”

Charlie nodded slowly. “I left it alone and the Universe was almost instantly lost, Gabriel. Free-Will....it's....just not ready for Angels yet. “ She looked away in frustration. “And I stress.....'yet', Gabriel. I'm working on it.  _Believe_ me, I'm working on it hard. The Angel and the Demon aren't the only ones in this game, not by a long shot. But you guys are so powerful, and you hold so many keys to keeping the universe together. I need to, no....I  _ have to _ , be sure about this.”

Gabriel frowned, considering. “And is that what happened to Jesse?”

Charlie smiled. “That's exactly what happened to Jesse. You see, I knew that they would drain his power to create the new Archangels, so I kinda threw an extra added bonus in for them.”

“That being?”

“They got a healthy dose of humanity with it. His experiences, his struggles, passion, emotions, love...all of it, and that, I think, that is why I also gave them free will.”

Gabriel sat down heavily at one of the chairs in the small room, thinking. “So, that was the side effect? It took his memory as well?”

Charlie sighed. “'Yeppers,” she answered wearily. “Even I can't create something from strictly nothing, I need to balance the scales. And that was the price.”

Gabriel tapped the table with his finger, thinking. “OK, I get it. I'm a loose cannon when it comes to the identity of the Angel and Demon, I get that....but what about Castiel and Crowley? Or even Sam and Dean? I mean, you know who they are, right? Why not warn them?”

Charlie frowned. “Look,  _I_ didn't even know who they really were up until running into them in that castle. They've got enough power between them to keep their intentions hidden from even me. And I mean on every timeline and thread of Destiny, Gabriel, every single stinking one of them. I still don't know what their End-Game is, here. For all I know, telling everyone who they are will just start the dominoes tumbling, drive them right into whatever it is that they have planned.” She sat down across from Gabriel and hung her head. “I'm....I'm flying blind here, Gabriel. I'm not used to that. And it's scary....it's so damned scary....everything that I created....the slightest misstep, and....” She didn't finish, shaking her head. “How did it come to this....?” she whispered softly. “I've failed, Gabriel....my creation, my children, look what I've done....” Gabriel looked up, concerned. Charlie shook her head and met his gaze, tears on her face, but determination as well.

“No, Gabriel, in this, I have to trust in what I've created. Free Will must be allowed to win. I have to trust in that, right or wrong. I cannot and will not interfere. There is too much that could go wrong and too much at stake for me to become involved. At least, anymore than I've already been forced to become involved already.” Gabriel watched her for while, then slowly nodded in agreement.

Charlie smiled at him. “Of course you know what that means, right?”

Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I guess I do....Men-in-Black memory treatment, huh?”

Charlie smiled grimly,. “'Fraid so.”

Gabriel smiled tightly back. “Well, wish us luck, then....I guess we're going to need it....”

Charlie nodded. “We all will.” There was a bright light, and then nothing.

 

***  
  


Gabriel opened the door to the hallway and he and the Ex-Heralds spread out all over the office, searching desperately for any sign of Chuck, Charlie or the Book of the Damned. After a long time, and several close calls with straggling police and fire workers, they met in the small room again, empty-handed. They decided to leave, going back down the staircase they had entered earlier.

“So, what now, boss? Back to the Yugo dealership?” Leon asked once they were all out of the building and walking away down Peachtree unobserved.

Gabriel shook his head. “No way I'm sitting on the bench for this.” He stopped and scratched his chin. “Also no way I'm going into the lion's den without leveling up a little, either.”

“Whatcha got in mind?”

Gabriel smiled. “You up for a little trip back to Heaven, folks? I'm scheduling us a raid night.”

 


	9. ....Over

# ….Over

The Book of the Damned landed with a heavy thud on the granite slab in front of Rowena. She glanced at it in disdain, sniffing, and raised a questioning eyebrow at the Angel.

“So, did you boys manage to bring me the right one this time?” she asked, not bothering to disguise the mocking tone in her voice.

The Angel sneered in way of reply.

Rowena exhaled dramatically. “OK, then, if you say so....” she said, gently and slowly turning the pages of the Book, carefully examining each page.

A hand grabbed her wrist painfully, twisting it away from the pages. She cried out in protest, turning her head to see who it was that had grabbed her. The Demon glanced at her, reaching around her with his free hand and deliberately, swiftly and violently turned the rest of the pages to the spell. He gave the pages a slap with the palm of his hand and glared at Rowena.

“Stop stalling,” he hissed behind the brown eyes of yet another new teenage vessel. Rowena found herself wondering how many of those they burnt through on any given day.

The Demon's eyes scanned Rowena's own, snapping back and forth rapidly.

“And no tricks, either, witch, or I will make you suffer like you've never imagined. Don't think I don't know what you're capable of.”

Rowena felt her blood go cold. She knew damned well that he knew. She swallowed hard and turned back to the Book.

“Of course, my lord,” she managed in a weak voice. “Um....if I may be so bold ….?”

The Demon watched her with a hard, unemotional stare.

“What?”

“The spell....it is a Summoning Spell, yes?”

The Demon nodded and folded his arms over his chest. “Yes,” he answered simply, waiting.

Rowena nodded, looking back down at the wrinkled, dry pages. Anything to avoid that gaze of his. “It's just that....you've never told me whom it is that we're summoning, my lord. I mean, I'd _assumed_ it was Gabriel, but you've never actually specifically told me....”

The Demon smiled. “How very astute of you,” he said, watching her.

Rowena swallowed over the lump in her throat again. “So...I'll be finished with this spell shortly, my lord....is it....” She forced herself to meet his gaze, involuntarily flinching back at the cold, dark red hidden hinted in the reflection of his eyes. “....is it....Gabriel?”

The Demon continued to smirk at her, unfolding his arms. “Don't worry about it,” he answered, holding up a hand to cut off her protest. “I know, I know, you are going to need to name the actual target of the spell upon completion. Let's just say, that my brother and I are less interested in the actual summoning, and much more interested in it's side-effects.”

Rowena frowned. “The side-effects...?” she asked, turning back to scan the pages. “You mean the removal of magical protections and wards?”

The Demon nodded. “Yes, that. Just leave the spell open-ended and working.” He waved his hand around himself. “Keep it localized around the Book there and our Symbol. We'll name the targets when they get here ourselves.”

Rowena's frown deepened.  _'Targets'_ .... _'they'_ ...? Cold realization washed over her and she looked up in pure terror at the Demon, then whipped her head towards the Angel. “Oh....oh...my....” she said, the air suddenly tight in her lungs. “....you mean to....”

The Demon nodded. “Like I said, witch; how very,  _very_ astute of you.”

Rowena looked back down at the Book in a panic, then up at the Angel, her cheeks suddenly streaming with tears of absolute terror.

“I....won't ….I won't do it....ye....can't make me....”

“Oh, on that note, I do believe that you will find that are very badly mistaken,” the Angel answered, eyes glowing.

Rowena's screams began to echo into the empty night.

 

***

 

“Well, that's useless,” Gabriel grumbled, tossing a golden dagger aside and moving some debris to the side in order to keep digging.

Leon picked up the dagger and turned it over in his hand. It glowed with a silvery blue light. He swept it through the air at a crumbling wall in ruins of the Vault of Heaven, gently letting the tip of the dagger scrape against it.

There was immediately a hissing sound, and the place where the dagger had scratched a trail in the wall began to smoke. It then began to glow red-hot, causing Leon to step back with a yelp, as the rock itself began to liquefy into hot magma, spreading out in a spider-web pattern until it collapsed to the ground. Gabriel looked back at him and frowned.

“That?! You call  _that_ 'useless'?!” Leon gasped open-mouthed at the Archangel. Gabriel shrugged in reply.

“It only works on rocks,” he answered. “We're not storming a castle here, Zombie-Boy, we're fighting Archangels....”

“Oh man, don't.... please don't call me that,” Leon mumbled in response, placing the dagger carefully on a dirty cushion in the rubble. “I ain't got a super-hero code-name OK? Especially not 'Zombie-Boy'.”

Gabriel barked a short laugh. “OK, ok, Mr. sensitive.” He pulled out a golden rope and shook his head, standing up, tossing it to the side. “Man, where did all the good stuff go?” He ran a hand through his hair and looked around dejectedly. “I hate to say it team, but it looks like someone beat us to the punch here.”

“Quite right, Gabriel,” came a voice from the wrecked entrance to the Vault. The small party spun to face him, and saw two Angels there, watching them carefully.

“Obadiah and Issiah,” Gabriel nodded in greeting. “I see you survived the companies cut-backs. I guess congratulations are in order.”

Obadiah sighed. “Must you, Gabriel? Everything isn't a joke, you know.”

Gabriel cocked his head to the side “What Universe have you been watching?” He shook his head vigorously. “Never mind. I.....don't suppose you two would know anything about the robbery here, would you?”

Issiah eyed the ex-Heralds in the room warily, finally settling on Jesse. He squinted and took in a sharp intake of breath, before relaxing. “Interesting,” he said. “The Anti-Christ....fully de-powered.” He turned back to Obadiah. “We should kill him.” Jesse took an involuntary step back.

“Whoa, whoa,  _whoa_ there, honchos,” Gabriel growled. “The kid's with me. And I seriously don't think you want to be starting that fight, now do you?”

Issiah looked around sourly at Gabriel. “All of a sudden you care about humans, Gabriel? Why the change of opinion? Besides, you know what that _creature_ truly is....why protect it?”

Gabriel raised his chin “First of all,  _he...._ is a friend of mine, and  _he_ , unlike you two jokers, is intent on actually doing something about what's been going on lately. So, believe me when I tell you this, if I can consider anyone expendable around here, I'm looking at you two first....or maybe you can answer my initial question and redeem yourselves....where did all the good stuff go?”

Issiah eyed him sideways and sighed. “Fine. If you must know, the most powerful of Heaven's weapons have been moved to a more secure location. Well, most of them, anyway.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”  
“We gave the Staff of Moses to the Demon Crowley.”

Gabriel's face took on an immediate look of shock and confusion. “Say _what now_!?” he sputtered. “Why would you even do that?”

Issiah shrugged. “He promised to bring us the witch Rowena in exchange.”

“And you would want her.....why?”

“Because the Angel and the Demon want her, that's why,” Obadiah replied sharply. “And Heaven can protect her far better than Crowley and Castiel ever could.”

“Uh-huh, and by 'protect', you actually mean 'kill', right?” Gabriel asked, crossing his arms.

“What better way to remove one of their primary assets,” Issiah answered. He sighed loudly. “Gabriel, you used to be a warrior of Heaven. You know what stakes we play for here. We cannot afford to be weak or hesitant. We must always be prepared to make the hard call when it means the fate of Creation itself. What has happened to you?”

Gabriel lenaed forward dangerously, his brow lowered. “I learned to sweat the small stuff,” he answered slowly. “I learned that if you ignore the means, then the cause means less than nothing.” He leaned over even closer to them. “I suggest you learn that lesson yourself. Father has been trying to teach it to everyone for a millenia now. Maybe you should listen” He watched them carefully until they turned away from him, and sighed. “OK, lecture's over....I'd seriously appreciate it if you'd take me to the rest of the weapons. We got a fight coming.”

 

***

 

Mist swirled over the ground of Stull Cemetery as Castiel, Crowley. Dean and Sam worked their way stealthily around the small copse of trees on the small cemetery's northeastern end. The mist and the late hour lent them some cover in the otherwise open ground, but the full moon was a hindrance in helping keep them concealed.

“If we're gonna move, we need to do it quick,” Dean whispered, checking his pistol to make sure the safety was off and the clip was full. “Can you see anything through this pea-soup?”

Castiel squinted towards the center of the cemetery and nodded.

“There's some light up ahead. Torches, I'd guess. And something like a bonfire.”

Dean nodded. “Any movement?”

Castiel nodded. “Several figures, yes.”

“The gangs all here, then,” Crowley muttered. “We need to hit them hard, grab Rowena, and get back out.” He rubbed his fingers along the Staff of Moses and the wooden artifact began to glow lightly. “I'll provide the fireworks, Moose and Squirrel here will take out any opposition, and flyboy will make with the extraction.” He looked around at them, eyebrows raised. “All clear?”

They all nodded.

Crowley, holding the staff out protectively in front of him, walked out from behind the trees and pointed it in front of him towards the dim torchlight. Dean and Sam moved out of the cover to flank him, scanning all around for any signs of resistance.

“So far, so good,” Crowley mumbled. “Maybe they don't even know we're here.”

The group moved forward cautiously, but swiftly. “Get ready....” Crowley whispered, the staff beginning to glow more brightly.

They moved to within range of the seven figures standing around a stone pillar. The slumped form of Rowena was clinging to it, her head rolling loosely around in pain, blood trickling from her mouth. The Book of the Damned stood open on the flat stone surface above her, glowing slightly with power.

“Now!” Crowley shouted, sprinting forward. A wave of force spread out from the Staff, sending the Heralds scattering to the left and right. Gravestones cracked and shattered, sending waves of shards into the air. Dean and Sam rushed forward to either side of the pedestal, guns out, covering the perimeter. In a flash, Castiel was by Rowena's side, helping her stand up.

Her head rolled lazily to look up at him. “Who....” she asked groggily. On seeing Castiel, she frowned and looked around her, her eyes settling on Sam and Dean. Her eyes immediately widened in fear, and she started to shake her head violently from side-to-side.

“No...oh no...oh  _god, what have you done_ ....?! Get them the hell out of here!”

“Sam and Dean Winchester!” two voices in tandem called out from the darkness. “We call you to us!”

There was a flash of light from the Book of the Damned, and Sam and Dean simultaneously dropped their guns and grabbed at the left side of their chests, sinking to the ground.

 

***

 

“Is this it?” Gabriel frowned, looking around at the remaining artifacts in Heaven's Vault. He picked up a golden sword and then placed it back down on it's pedestal in disgust.

“I am afraid so,” Obadiah answered. “But there are still some very potent artifacts here, Gabriel.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the Ark of the Covenant, for one,” Obadiah answered, indicating a large chest with his hand.

Gabriel looked at the chest, then back at the angel is disbelief. “You do know that we're going into a  _fight_ , right? What moron is going to carry a half-ton golden chest into a fight?”

“I could do it,” Kinsey said, shrugging.

“Don't help,” Gabriel retorted swiftly. He looked around. “What about the Archangel swords? You know, the big ones?”

“Destroyed,” Issiah answered with a sigh. “Along with the Archangels that carried them. You never had one, of course, just that horn of yours.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Don't remind me....wait, 'destroyed'?....That's not possible, there's one of those that _can't_ be destroyed....it's part of a celestial power....” he looked around the small room in vain until he spotted an ornate, golden scabbard. He rushed over and picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

“It's empty....” Gabriel said, looking up in confusion at the two angels.

Obadiah nodded. “The Sword vanished when....well,when the Adversary finally destroyed our great brother.”

Gabriel looked down at the empty scabbard again. He stared at it for a long time.

Then his arms started trembling.

He looked back up at the angels Obadiah and Issiah, his face slack with complete, numb shock.

“Guys....” he said quietly, weakly, almost soundlessly. The scabbard slipped from his hands and hit the ground with a clatter.

“Gabriel?” Jesse asked, concerned. He rushed over to stand in front of him and tried to meet the Archangel's eyes. “Gabriel, what is it?”

Gabriel didn't answer for a long time until, blinking himself out of reflection, he stared at Jesse.

“We....we have to find Sam and Dean....” he said.

Jesse frowned. “Sam and Dean? What do they have to do with anything?”

Gabriel looked back down to the scabbard lying on the floor.

“Everything, Jesse. Absolutely everything.”

 

***

 

“Dean! Sam!” Castiel shouted, placing Rowena carefully back against the pillar. “What happened?! Are you OK?”  
“It's funny, you know?” the Demon's voice echoed out of the mist. Castiel whipped his head around, trying to locate the direction from where it was coming from. Crowley held the Staff of Moses out in front of him, circling slowly. “What is?” he replied in question.

“The Prophecy told you clowns to keep them out of this. Told you specifically to leave them out, and they just couldn't stay away, could they? Did you know that the summoning spell that we used wouldn't have found them? It's those runes on their ribs. They had to come here themselves....since they escaped from us anyway. We had planned on doing this a tad earlier....”

Castiel had reached Sam and Dean, who were clutching their chests in pain.

“Yeah, well, you two made it irresistible, didn't you? It must be your winning personalities,” Crowley growled. “Why dont'cha come on out and we can all see how charming you can be, what do you say?”

The Angel's laugh echoed all around them.

“The Winchesters. Well, at least you can say this for them. They are so....predictable.”

There was a flare of light from the bonfire behind the the stone platform, illuminating the symbol of the Heralds, standing like a monument there. A giant snake wound it's way around the cross, it's tongue flicking out at the damp air. The light had come from the two jets of flame, which were glowing brighter. Rowena let out a groan.

“Always have to be there to save the day, always have to try to srescue the world,” the Angel's voice boomed, seemingly coming from the symbol now. “Never caring what the rules were, or why the rules were there in the first place. How may times? How many times have they nearly destroyed the world in their vain pursuit of heroism? How many times have they defied the edicts of Heaven itself to satisfy their own hubris and to selfishly protect....what? Humanity?” The voice laughed mockingly. “No, no, each other. Because saving each other naturally takes precedence over the laws of creation itself!”

“Sam, Dean, what happened?” Castiel asked desperately, shaking Dean gently by the shoulders. Dean looked up at him and, puzzled, looked back down at his chest. He pulled his shirt back, revealing a charred patch under his left shoulder. He frowned and brushed at it, the ashes falling away to reveal....

_Nothing_ .

“Our tattoos.....” Sam whispered. “Our anti-possession tattoos are....”

“Gone I'm afraid,” the Demon's voice rang out, clearer now. “Last little hurdle. You see, back when we were Angels, that whole 'Free-Will' used to get in the way of silly things like claiming one's true vessel....”

“Not anymore. Now we are both of us  _more_ than we ever have been,” the Angel's voice finished. “Now, we can simply  _take_ what is rightfully ours!”

The glowing flames behind the symbol shot out in a line directly at Sam and Dean, one for each of them. The flowed into their eyes and mouth in a rush, while the Winchesters convulsed in agony. Castiel was flung bodily back from them and skidded to a halt against a gravestone, staring back in pain and disbelief.

Sam and Dean lay motionless and prone face first on the earthy cemetery ground. The air itself seemed to stop moving, as it were waiting for something. Then, slowly, they pushed themselves up off of the ground and walked over to the Symbol of the Heralds.

The snake unwound itself from the cross and wound it's way around Sam's shoulders and neck. He gave it a small pat on it's head and a smile, then looked up at Castiel and Crowley, flexing his shoulders in his new body. “Oh, that is sooooo much more like it,” he practically purred in satisfaction.

Dean wrapped his hand slowly around the short edge of the cross, pulling it with a metallic rasp out of the ground and spinning it up in his hand like a....

“....a sword....” Crowley whispered. “That wasn't a cross, that was a  _sword_ ....” His mind began to race, flying back to a conversation that he had with Dean in his conference room....

 

_...Michael's dead? That's....well...that's...That's bloody impossible, Dean! Micheal is the sword of God himself! He's a celestial power! There is no_ _ _possible way_ _ _for Lucifer to destroy him like that!”_

 

“The sword that I once used to smite my very own brother at my Father's command and banish him forever from the Kingdom of Heaven,” Dean said with the Angel's voice. He looked over at Sam, pain in his features. “I am still....so very, very sorry, brother for my actions.”

Sam smiled, his eyes twinkling with a red fire. “As I said in the Cage, brother - forgiven and forgotten.”

“ _Lucifer_ ....” Castiel gasped pressing himself back against the gravestone. His gaze turned slowly towards Dean. “ _Michael_ .....why....?”

Michael looked at Castiel, madness and confusion mixing in his features to produce a kind of child-like puzzlement.

“Why?  _Why_ ?!” he asked. His entire body trembled until he leaned his entire body back and tilted his head to the heavens, laughing like a lunatic into the night sky. The Heralds moved in around Michael and Lucifer, forming a semi-circle behind them.

“Because it's  _time_ , Castiel. We were promised by our Heavenly Father a Judgment Day! We were promised by our Heavenly Father the Kingdoms of Heaven and Hell, whether we  _asked for them or not_ ....!” His smile cut off, and he glared at Castiel. “And we're here to collect,” he growled lowly.

Michael raised his sword, and all of the light from the stars in the sky reflected in the blade and it began to glow with a blue-white light. Lucifer, in turn, raised his hands, trailing black smoke and brimstone from his clenched fists, the smell of fire and sulfur filling this air.

“Let's get this Apocalypse on, then, shall we? What d'ya say?”

 

… _.to be continued in Castiel and Crowley, Season 2_

 

_Next Week: Castiel and Crowley: Season 1 Epilogue_

 


	10. Epilogue

# Epilogue

 

In the dark between time and space, somewhere that has no actual place, but exists as the Gate to Purgatory, something stirred. Something massive,  _stirred_ .

It gathered itself, all at once a surge of dark energy with no form began to coalesce, focusing on....something....something that had  _changed_ .

_Ah yes_ , it thought,  _that is what has changed....what is it that God had called it? Time....he had called it time_ . It shuddered in rage, remembering. That was one of the weapons that God had used to trap it. Time. Order. Balance. And now....now something had  _changed_ ....

It focused, moving in closer, bringing this manifestation of Time and Space into view, and flinched back in pain.

Light.

The weaves of Time and Destiny and Fate shone brighter than a million-billion suns, threads glowing golden with Order and Light. The Dark howled as if it had a voice. This Order, this Light caused it such pain.

It remembered. He had sent( _is sending?, will send?_ \-  time was so confusing to it ) a part of itself- a formless part, a part nonetheless with form, and a Name. It had a Name..and it's name had been Hastur....it had sent Hastur to examine this Time. To find ( _will find? Is finding?_ ) a weakness. A hole. A flaw that could be exploited.

God had appointed his guardians to watch over this creation of His, guardians that helped balance Time. Fate. The darkness focused. Yes. Fate. She was ( _Is? Will be?_ ) there.

She had released a Golden Thread of Fate. Time and Creation formed around it. It looked deep into this thread, this Creation. She had chosen it, this Thread. She had chosen it, with the help of two Scions of God – Lucifer, Michael – how ironic – they had chosen this Thread. Engineered it's choosing. To usurp power. From their Father....

Where was Hastur?

It felt....confused.

The formless, nameless one - Hastur – he was....gone.

Fate had done that. She had destroyed Hastur.

The being felt a surge of.... _hope? Triumph? Expectation? Victory?_ The Guardian Fate, Atropos, had created an imbalance. A Paradox. The mirror was shattered. It could ( _will?_ ) use that. Use that and be free.

It focused closer, now looking at all of this new Creation. This new Time.

And it understood.

The massive Darkness shook with malevolent laughter – or as close to laughter as such a force could express.

It had had help.

The pieces were ( _are, had_ ) moving. The last Archangel was exposed, the last Key to the Gate. The Ones that had helped the Darkness, they sought to control the power themselves. To become as their Creator, to become Gods themselves and as He had done, strike down the Darkness and use it for their own means.

How....foolish.

And how deliciously ironic, that is was those two that had done this.

It waited. It could wait. Knowing that it would soon enjoy devouring all of Creation in an unending wave of Chaos and Destruction.

And them along with it.

 

***

 

The old man felt a sting on his arm and glanced down at it, frowning.

_A bee....? Surely not._ He hadn't been stung by one of his bees in decades...and even if it were, he was too powerful to even feel it....

His eyes widened.

He rotated his gnarled forearm around slowly, the knotted muscle and tan skin new, pink in the sun.

_Unmarked._

He felt sweat bead on his forehead.

There was only was thing that could have repaired the Mark....

He ripped off his veiled Bee-Keepers helmet and rushed towards the house....there were things to check....things to see.

The door to his small house was ajar.

He skidded to a halt on the dirt path, glancing up at the open door, sending out his conscience to attempt to feel what had dared to invade his home....

He felt his blood go cold. Perhaps for the first time in hundreds of years....he felt.... _fear_. Pure, cold, unspoiled fear.

He slowly, warily made his way up the steps to his house. He put his hand against the open door, pushing it open further to accommodate his large frame. He swallowed hard as he spotted the figure lounging carelessly on his sofa, feet propped up on the end table, a glass of wine in his hand, examining it in the twilight beams of sunshine that still managed to illuminate the small room.

“An excellent vintage,” the man said, his voice a refined mixture of European aristocracy. “I didn't realize that you were a connoisseur, Cain.” The man turned his dark eyes slowly towards him, a small smile on his lips. “It is _still_ Cain, isn't it? You are, if I recall, never one for hiding. I, on the other hand, have collected so many identities over the endless years, that I no longer know what to call myself anymore....what is one to do?” He crooked an eyebrow, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air.

“ Cartaphilus....” Cain whispered, images of an ancient Roman prison flashing through his head....a cruel, blind Centurion stabbing the Son through the side with a spear....taunting...cursed by the Son Himself to wander the earth, to never taste death until....

The man smiled at Cain. “Oh, I do love the traditional names....” He set the glass down and stood up. He looked Cain up and down, his eyes lingering on his arm. “Seems like you're missing something there, Cain.”

Cain nodded numbly. “And you're here as well....” he said dryly. “Is it....is it time?

Cartaphilus tilted his head. “Oh, I do hope so. This planet has become completely intolerable recently.” He walked over to Cain and stared at the taller man directly in the eyes. “It was a near thing, oh those eight years ago. Before the Winchesters screwed it up. Such a near thing. But this time.....” his hand balled into a trembling fist, his eyes flared suddenly with an insane passion. “...this time I think they've got it right.”

Cain shook his head. “I....I understand Cartaphilus, believe me, I do, but dying....it isn't....” he stopped, breathing out heavily. “Cartaphilus, have you considered what awaits you on the other side if there is no Heaven and Hell anymore? What will be there for the souls in Michael and Lucifer's new Kingdom? I'm asking you....please....”

Cartaphilus's eyes danced with barely contained madness. “Considered it.... _considered it_??!!” he spat in disbelief. “I have _considered it_ with every single stinking wasted second on this garbage-heap of a planet for the last two-thousand plus years, Cain!!!” He took a dangerous step forward. Cain imagined that he could feel the fury coming off of the cursed Roman in waves. “With every unearned breath that I've taken since I sent that Jew to the Crucifix, then watched that...that _cult_ of His grow to rule this earth have I _considered it_ , Second-Son!” The veins in his arm stood out on taut muscles, and his face had gone beet-red in fury. “I will _not_ be longer denied my final reward, Cain!! Nothing upon this earth or the ones beyond will stop me!” He stopped, trembling, then took a deep, steady breath. “I...assume that you can guess the reason for my little visit, then?”

“It's not here, Cartaphilus, the Mark is _gone_....I know it sounds impossible, but someone has removed it from me without my knowledge....literally minutes ago....”

The Roman nodded, turning away. “It appears so....perhaps the Seal is truly exposed, then.... then again....I cannot allow the missing Mark to exist....or even _risk_ it being returned....to it's original owner....”

“Cartaphilus, _please_...!”

The Roman spun with a speed almost invisible to the naked eye, a golden gladius appearing in his hand from under his coat, and he swung it down at Cain's arm, scoring against the forearm. Cain leapt stealthily away and, grasping his arm in pain, then immediately sent every bit of Hellfire that he could summon, sending it directly towards the centurion, engulfing him in flame.

The Roman didn't even attempt to dodge, instead standing stock still in the flames, his skin blackening. The flames died down, leaving a hideous, charred lump of bone and muscle in the vague shape of a human being behind. It took a slow, shambling step forward....

….and the charred flesh sloughed off of him and blew away on a small breeze like a whisper, showing him completely unmarked underneath it, renewed and living. Cain's eyes widened in disbelief.

Cartaphilus smiled.

“....please....” Cain whispered, turning to run.

The sword took him in the back and Cain dropped to his knees, grasping in vain at the sword's tip that was protruding through his ribcage. He turned his head slowly, helplessly, back towards the centurion, his mouth agape and dripping blood.

With a vicious tug and a boot on his back, Cartaphilus pulled the sword free.

“Good-by old friend....” he whispered.

The sword whistled through the air at Cain's neck, barely slowing as it went through it, sending Cain's head rolling to the wooden porch with several thickening, dull thuds before finally coming to a rest.

The Roman stood over Cain's corpse for a long time, breathing heavily at the effort. He bent down once more and examined the area on Cain's arm where the Mark should have been, and frowned, looking up at the horizon.

“Where did you get off to now, I wonder...? he asked rhetorically, standing up. He scanned the sky and, sighing, walked off of the porch and towards the road, where his car was parked at the turn-off.

“You cannot hide from me, Death. You have avoided my path for far too long....” he whispered to himself as he replaced his sword and re-buckled his long coat. “All things must end. And it is time for this world to pay it's due.”

 


End file.
